


Knowing

by relemancy



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Mandalorian Culture (Star Wars), Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:22:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 28,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29824890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relemancy/pseuds/relemancy
Summary: Pitted against her father’s former Padawan, Tarin Kenobi was mere seconds away from executing Vader after she defeated him in single combat, until she found herself unwittingly ripped from her own reality and thrown two decades into an indescribably peculiar, yet scarily realistic vision of the Umbara campaign and the Betrayal of Pong Krell.After coming to the conclusion that her situation is an actual reality, Tarin is graced with the opportunity to prevent the nightmarish future that was her present from coming to pass.Determined to save the past from the damnation that progressively encroaches as the Clone Wars rage across the galaxy, Mand’alor Kenobi sets out with the intention of shaping the Republic and the Jedi Order into something better, and along the way seeking vengeance, searching for redemption, finding acceptance, and maybe even getting a chance to know her family.
Relationships: Ahsoka Tano/Original Female Character(s), CC-2224 | Cody & Original Female Character(s), CT-7567 | Rex & Original Female Character(s), Obi-Wan Kenobi & Siri Tachi, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Original Female Character(s), Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Siri Tachi & Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 27





	1. I.

**Author's Note:**

> This story concept was one that came to mind while I was reading through different works where the main premise was Korkie Kryze as the secret son of Obi-Wan Kenobi and Satine Kryze. There is a sort of appreciation that I have for those but the amount of them available garnered in me the need to look into fics where Obi-Wan has a child but it’s not a known character — more specifically, an OC. I found a few but the writing quality just didn’t suffice, that or they were unfinished, and I realized that I desperately need to get over my rampant predilection for those rare fics that just stick real well. 
> 
> With all of that being said, I decided to swallow the shameful amount of procrastination I’ve been riding on for months and take my first shot at writing fanfiction. There’s an inside joke with myself buried here somewhere, based on the fact that I have an entire timeline and story written up for a Force-sensitive Mand’alor who has ancient Jedi heritage, but instead I’m posting this Obi-Wan-has-a-kid-because-I-said-so-fic before the one I actually have structured and ready to write. 
> 
> No beta, mhi ash’amur sa’Mando’ade

It rarely rained in Keldabe, but when it did, it was usually accompanied by raging claps of thunder and volatile lightning strikes. This was one such occasion. The torrent of precipitation battered the slick dirt of the main concourse. The decimated bodies of dead stormtroopers littered the muddy opening, some still smoking from lightsaber slashes that had befallen their various limbs. Heated plastoid from the saber burns glowed erratically throughout the macabre display of white-armored bodies that saturated Keldabe’s ground. 

Darth Vader stood tall amongst his fallen men, light from various fixtures reflected off of puddles and onto the sleek black components that made him the mechanical monstrosity that he was. Raindrops pattered his infamous helm and beaded onto the metallic surface as they gradually dripped down. 

In front of him stood one of the last living connections to the life of Anakin Skywalker. Save for his recently discovered son, Vader had little that connected him to the weak Jedi he had once been. Killing the woman before him would eliminate one more relic of the bygone era that was his time as a Jedi, the years that came before he discovered true power. 

She stood facing him, the Darksaber lit at the ready, its otherworldly white glow counteracting the malicious red of Vader’s own. The light that it emitted cast a dim clarity over the much smaller fighter. Scarlet colored Jedi robes hugged her athletic figure. The loud fabric was modified to fit under a red _beskar_ shoulder covering that surrounded her neck and rested on her upper shoulders. Red armor pads that hugged the curvature of her shoulder were followed by red bicep wraps, gold bracers, and armored gloves. Black leggings with red knee armor and greaves of the same color adorned her legs, all bearing the signs of the armor of a battle-worn warrior. 

Her shoulder length copper hair was rain-soaked, making it darker than usual. Blue-grey eyes bored into Vader with deadly intent that was unmatched by anyone in the galaxy. Righteous fury burned in her gaze as she gripped Tarre Vizsla’s lightsaber. In truth, any lesser warrior would cower before the infamous young woman, but Vader was not lesser. 

There was, however, a significant vicissitude connected to the woman: Tarin Kenobi was hard to kill. _Very_ hard to kill. The _Mand’alor_ , who was, more importantly, the daughter of Anakin Skywalker’s former master, had survived everything short of a fully powered attack from the Death Star and came out unscathed.

It only added to Vader’s rage in early encounters when the sting of her escape from his clutches was fresh, when the Inquisitors he sent after her would consistently be found with their heads removed from their necks and their lightsabers missing. 

It was a rage that had festered and grown when added on to the weight of knowing that the girl's father had kept his own children from him, children that were rightfully his. Vader had struck down Obi-Wan Kenobi and rid himself of the archaic weakness, yet here stood the man’s flesh and blood. 

Perhaps the most fury instilling aspect of their current situation was that Kenobi’s daughter had proven much more powerful than Vader. Many times had he found himself unable to best her in combat. He would return from their encounters to find himself subjected to excruciating bouts of lightning from his master, and each time his hatred grew. 

This time, hopefully, would be different. The Emperor had sought to unbalance the girl and to no avail. She outright refused to submit to the will of the dark, instead choosing to wield it without falling, much to the astonishment of both Vader and Sidious. After Tarin’s many acrimonious rejections to Vader’s calling, The Emperor devised a plan that would ideally push her over the edge. It would be a fitting end to Kenobi’s legacy for his child to fall and tarnish everything that the man stood for. 

So it was set in motion that Vader would venture to the remaining pockets of Mandalorian loyalists and leave no man, woman, or child alive. The Dark Lord preyed on the _Mand’alor’s_ one true weakness, her dedication to her people. Through the scope of the Sith it was a good plan, in theory at least. But intrinsically was where it held the potential to fail, because it was just that, theoretical. 

And Tarin Kenobi dealt in absolutes when battling the Emperor and his mad dog. As she stood before the hulking abomination that had been her father’s apprentice , she knew in her heart that only one of them would walk away from this encounter with their life, and it would not be Vader. 

He seemed to be aware of that fact as well because for the briefest moment she felt his hesitation in the Force before it was quickly masked by the stabbing cold fury that was his presence. Tarin dug her heel back into the mud and focused on the sounds made by the rainfall. 

Tarin was not a Jedi, she had done things that a Jedi would never do. But she was the daughter of two Jedi Knights, and she was more than capable of wielding the Force. However she was not facing down the imperial butcher for the Jedi, but their memory, the memory of how necessary their compassion was even if she was loath to admit it. Because here stood the man who damned the galaxy for his toxic interpretation of love, a man who had a significant hand in destroying everything good that was left. A man who destroyed the Order that had taken him in from a harsh life in the Outer Rim. The volatile mass of cyborg contraption whose mind was stitched together by cold fury and perpetual self-hatred had tortured Tarin relentlessly once, his intent to break her. 

His efforts bore no fruit. Nothing could break her. 

Vader had broken the hearts of all who held him dear, had driven her father to exile on a dustball planet to ponder all of his perceived failings as merely a shadow of the former Jedi Master and High General that he was. 

Anakin Skywalker, Darth Vader, a slave boy who became a Jedi, a Jedi who betrayed his mandate, who became a monster and burned democracy to the ground beneath his misconstrued idea of passion and submitted himself to slavery once more under the false guidance of a Sith Lord and the hollow draining effect of the empty promises of the dark side. 

Tarin had persisted through the grief of Satine Kryze’s death, through the pain of knowing that her mother left her with the Duchess of Mandalore rather than fleeing the Order to have a real family. She had survived the Great Jedi Purge and the subjugation of Mandalore as the Empire sought to make an example of the once proud people by establishing an atrocious academy there. She persevered through agonizing sessions of torture that were designed to break her into falling and had escaped Vader’s inquisitior headquarters with the scars to remind her of the ordeal. Tarin picked the Darksaber off of the mutilated corpse of Bo-Katan amidst the Empires campaign against Mandalorian resistance. From there she met Moff Gideon in single combat and crushed him beneath her heel before going on to wreak havoc amongst the Imperial forces. Tarin was the woman who liberated Mandalore from tyrannical clutches through tactical ingenuity, subterfuge, combat prowess, and sheer immovable will power. She had pulled through the month-long period of unconsciousness that the destruction of Alderaan caused thanks to her incredibly strong connection to the Force. 

Tarin Kenobi feared nothing. A convoluted, pitiful excuse for a Sith would not change that. 

The _Mand’alor_ adjusted her grip on the _Dhakadau_ and prepared herself for the ensuing conflict. “You have become quite an annoyance to my master’s plans,” said Vader through the rasps that his breath produced in the helmet's vocoder. It gave her the opening she needed to tear down his confidence. 

“Always a master and it’s never you Anakin,” she said, using his true name as a taunt. “You were a slave on Tatooine, a slave to the Jedi Order, a slave to whatever excuse for love you thought you shared with Padme, and now you’re a slave to Sidious’ bidding. You’re pathetic, nothing, worthless. Your life was never your own and it never will be,” she spat vituperatively. 

The wave of cold hatred that he reacted with would have staggered anyone aside from Tarin, but she was _Mand’alor_ and no one bested her. Not the Empire and its planet killing machines or the dark side and its manipulative covenants, promises built on sand. Vader was simply too easy to influence and he had taken the bait her words concealed without second thought. Tarin would not give him time to construct a remark that could come anywhere close to being equally as scathing. Instead, she lept. 

The Darksaber whipped through the cold rainy night as it clashed with Vader’s crimson blade, the unnatural sound it emitted intertwined with the various pattering notes that the quickening rain generated when it came in contact with the surrounding surfaces. Tarin used the rebound of the block to center herself before striking low. Vader countered in stride and moved to strike her, not realizing that she had another plan of attack in mind.

Before he could move to bring his saber down, she planted her left hand on the ground and while holding her guard against his angle with her saber in her right hand, she lashed out with a vicious kick, the velocity of which crumpled the Sith’s knee in a sickening audible crack as bone and wiring snapped and grinded against each other. 

Vader groaned as he fell, only catching himself with his right hand that had dropped his saber. It was a testament to his immense power that he could even attempt to stabilize himself after the sheer strength behind Tarin’s attacks. His giant body squelched into the mud. Tarin was on her feet before he could reach for his saber with the Force. She beat him to it and hooked it to her belt at lightning speed as she jumped to him. 

No lightsabers ignited the wet darkness that they found themselves tussling in, instead there was only _beskar_ clad hands laying into the Dark Lord. Tarin pinned his arms to the ground with the force and rammed her knee into his broken one. He screamed in pain through the vocoder in his helmet but was silenced by the first strike of her fist. 

It was a duel years in the making and after countless setbacks that allowed him to escape or caused her to flee due to Imperial reinforcements, she would not be denied. All the strength of the Force that she channeled through her body went into the first strike as her first made contact with his helmet. Metal and glass splintered off of the powerful strike and barely had time to meet the muddy ground before the mask was met once more with a vicious punch. 

Tarin saw nothing but red as she drove her first over and over into Vader’s helmet. It cracked and collapsed inward until his horribly burnt face was visible to the world. Yellow eyes peered back at her with raw contempt, but the dark side forsook him in the face of Obi-Wan Kenobi’s daughter. Again and again he found himself wracked in pain as knuckles encased in _beskar_ hammered into his disfigured face. 

Tarin’s clothes were soaked in blood beyond recognition. It seeped into her jumpsuit, the sticky crimson liquid from countless stormtroopers and the man beneath her. It sprayed onto her face and mingled with the sweat and rain as she pounded rampantly until his shaky breath was barely discernible. 

He made one last effort to raise a hand against her but her own hand shot out at blistering speed to grasp his rising arm. She enhanced her grip strength with the Force and looked into where his eyes were on his mangled face, searching for him to recognize her intent. He did not have the energy to widen them in surprise before she clenched down on the black leather that encased his arm. She gripped tighter and tighter as he writhed. Vader screamed and groaned as his bone crunched and shattered into hundreds of pieces that pierced muscle fibers and rubbed against his damaged nerves. 

She finished by violently twisting the arm until it produced a crack that echoed throughout their surroundings. Jagged white bone poked through the synth leather of his suit and she returned her hand to his throat once more as she continued to hit his face until her fury was satisfied. The desire for revenge was apparent. The potent rage that fueled her entire being was kept on a tight leash that was only mastered after years of practicing restraint and testing her own limits. 

She fought with passion and unbridled anger, but it did not control her, rather she controlled it, channeling it to enforce her every intent. Because Tarin had learned to coexist with the dangerous whispers that lingered on the edge of her mind, promising unlimited power. She stared into the dark defiantly and when it sought passage within her, she looked the dark in its fathomless malicious face and denied it. 

Vader groaned in pain beneath her, his body and mind spent beyond repair. For a fraction of time, Tarin relented, her blood covered fist raised and poised to strike once more, but she gathered herself in the moment. She had come to the point that she had yearned to experience for so long, a goal which was only made more desirable by Vader’s recent slaughter of the rest of her people scattered throughout the Mandalore system. 

Adrenaline coursed through her veins like fire, igniting her body with the ecstasy of victorious combat. Hesitation was not in her nature, especially when such a foe was the ultimate prize. Vengeance would not consume her, it was simply motivation, harnessed and calculating. Standing at the vertex of what needed to be done, staring down at the face of Anakin Skywalker, Tarin felt completion in her grasp. 

The precipice was there, and she had no reservations about crossing it as she ignited the Darksaber once more. The rain poured on and Keldabe burned as she twirled the black blade into a reverse grip with both hands. She stared at the man who had stripped so much from her and from the galaxy, and without a shred of remorse, she thrusted the blade down with the intent of penetrating his skull. 

The rain stopped.

More specifically, everything stopped, and Vader was gone. The fires that burned the old capital city froze around her in suspended animation. Ripples from droplets colliding with mud puddles stood idle. 

And in the confusion, Tarin Kenobi’s mind drifted.

* * *

_Images flashing by at lightning speed, filled with knowledge that brought understanding to many past events thought inexplicable_

_“Yan my friend, have you… have you fallen?,” a man — Sifo Dyas — said, aghast._

_“The Clones, they are a trap, that is all I am permitted to say. You will have your revenge, Fett, of that I can assure you.”_

_“Operation Knightfall”_

_“Organic chips built into our genetic code”_

_“Execute Order 66”_

_“Find him, Fives!”_

_“Master Skywalker, there are too many of them. What are we going to do?”_

_The ignition of a blue lightsaber as a child steps back, startled and afraid._

_Immeasurable death. The Force screaming in despair for its children._

_Millions of unique individual minds wiped clean as their consciences are reduced to one reality, the death of the Jedi Knights, traitors to the Republic._

_A woman screaming in pain, her voice carrying pleas for her husband's help. “Ani!”_

_Tusken raiders struck down by a hate-filled figure wielding a blue lightsaber. Desert air burning with rage. No survivors left by the dark individual, women and children included. Bodies in the sand._

_“The tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise”_

_“I don’t know you anymore, please Ani you’re breaking my heart”_

_“You were my brother Anakin, I loved you.”_

_A man and a woman kissing passionately near a lake, both in wedding attire._

_“What do you want with Anakin Skywalker?”_

_“He is the key to everything. He has long been groomed for his role, as my master's new apprentice.”_

_“I know Anakin. Your vision is flawed.” Finality, echoing with the ignition of Jar Kai blades._

_“You turned her against me!”_

_“Is it possible to learn this power?”_

_“Love won’t save you Padmé. Only my new powers can do that.”_

_“I have brought peace to my new Empire!”_

_Knowledge, the kind that brought clarification to so many unanswered questions._

_Horrible realization. The acrimonious taste of understanding, acceptance at having been played on a galactic scale._

_Revenge, a millennium in the making, expertly crafted and constantly nurtured. Malicious intent balanced on a theoretical knife edge, executed with deadly driven precision. Vindication, beautiful and destructive._

_Pain, suffering, unbridled sorrow, the obliteration of every ideal held dear. Death, death, death, death, dea— nothing._

_Everything._

_A plan. The culmination. False declarations of peace and security. The ushering in of a bleak new era._

_Hope that flickered in the soul of two achingly young individuals._

_An outlier._ The _outlier. A warrior, forged by the trials of an unforgiving galaxy and the progenitors who left her behind. One, who sought not to know her. The other, who was not made aware and thus failed to make her acquaintance until it was too late and the world had burned to ash in the wake of a fledgling regime._

_An individual who was the product of a recent era, the incarnate transcendence of design, a doctrine that refused to evolve, that unwittingly damned itself to endangerment in its complacency. An entire institution that refused to adapt while its surroundings moved forward._

_Kenobi, Mand’alor, Al’Ori’Ramikade, who feared nothing and bowed to no one._

_Skywalker, a farm boy who became the future of the Jedi._

_Organa, but fraudulent in name, the fiery twin who was not aware of her counterpart._

_Solo, Chewbacca, Mon Mothma, Hoth, Endor, Bespin, Fett, Jabba, Empire, Alliance._

_Names and places interconnected throughout space and time, all saturated with living purpose. The plan to match the plan, to counter and fight._

_To rebel._

_To balance._

The visions flashed erratically and filled her head with knowledge. Tarin could not tell if her body was moving or if she even had a body at all. Darkness and light intertwined and separated simultaneously. It felt as if every atom in her body was ripped apart and crudely rearranged in a different configuration. 

There was nothing but blackness, but it spun into a whirlwind that she couldn’t remove her eyes from. The whirlwind was finality, and its shape held the potential for change. But Tarin was not yet aware of this. Her mind continued to overload with violent flashes of imagery that was too fast to make sense of in the moment. 

But in an instant, spinning stopped just as abruptly as it had started, and Tarin Kenobi opened her eyes to a new beginning that she would gradually become familiar with. 

* * *

When the labor of Tarin’s tiring search had finally bore fruit and she found her father tucked away on Tatooine, dedicated to dutifully watching over the offspring of his former apprentice, she found that for one of the first times in her life, she was not entirely sure of how she wanted to approach the situation. However after the initial shock subsided and greetings faded into an everyday routine, she decided that she would pick his brain for the things she knew best. 

It was with that goal in mind that Tarin began learning of High Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi, The Negotiator, and his exploits throughout the Clone Wars. Having been raised in Mandalorian society and inherited a lust for knowledge, she found herself quizzing him for information on battles down to the smallest detail. She had a cultured appreciation for strategy and tactics, it was how she retook Mandalore despite the insurmountable odds she was facing. 

With that being said, she quickly came to the conclusion that her father was a military genius whose mind had been tainted by Jedi philosophy. He never did come to accept the former part of the statement, as taking a compliment in stride would have been anathema to the peculiar being that was Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

Regardless, the epic regaling of war stories that Tarin squeezed out of her reluctant parent over the five years she spent on the backwater desert world stuck with her when she did finally travel back to Mandalore. 

It was apparent that those memories also maintained themselves in her conscience even through being thrust into an inexplicable Force vision, if that is what this truly was. Tarin had no such reservations at the moment. She was too accustomed to having her mind and body assaulted by indescribable pain during the year she spent in captivity under Vader as he tried, to no avail and her delight, to break her. So she resigned to believe that this was the Force in some form of disagreement with her choice to take Skywalker’s life.

Indeed it would seem that the farm boy was right in some convoluted sense and that Vader was not meant to be slain by her hand, felled by the Darksaber on the muddy ground of a half-destroyed Keldabe. Still, she had survived worse. Her body bore lacerations and electrical burns, marks and scars of every imaginable kind, all struck with intent of causing her to fall. So she would break out of whatever this malicious fever dream was as well, whether it was Sidious, Vader, or the Force itself that had caged her in the false reality. 

Wherever she was, it was quiet. Deathly quiet. Which, in her experience as a master tactician and executor of guerilla warfare, meant that the silence was perhaps as far from serenity as possible. It was also dark, the kind of darkness laden with a slight fog. Strange plants with glowing tips dotted the hilly landscape around her, many of which sat below relatively short, stocky flora. 

She reached for the Darksaber and was relieved to find the hilt of her companion sitting comfortably at her waist where it usually resided. She was armed, which instantly made her more equipped to tackle her situation. Not that lacking a saber was detrimental in any way. The first thing she did when combat training was hone her body into a lethal weapon of unmatchable caliber. Mandalorians sought to perfect combat in their quest to become the perfect warriors. Thus, the first weapon you had was your own person. And Tarin could kill a man in thousands of different ways, a skill she had picked up at a young age. 

With her body ready to engage any threat that made itself known to her and her lightsaber clipped and prepared, Tarin sank deep into the Force, her greatest tool and steadfast ally. She extended her senses outward and not a moment too soon, because in the instant that she surveyed the area with the Force, she was made aware of two approaching bodies that radiated lethal intentions. As she reached for her saber and chose which party she would strike first, she was shocked to discover that they were not focused on her. 

It was quite the contrary in fact. Both approaching forces were scanning their surroundings for what seemed to be each other. With their intentions catalogued in her mind, Tarin made to sneak around the group of men approaching from the north. 

The smothering darkness and subfusc layer of fog hid her physical appearance and she wrapped herself in the Force to silence any noise she might generate, a skill she developed early on in the covert operations phase of retaking her planet. 

Helmeted voices carried as they echoed through the hilly terrain surrounding the unwitting soldiers and their silent observer. Tarin peeked out from the tree she had taken cover behind. It’s thick trunk provided cover that was more than sufficient for her lithe athletic form. 

The soldiers were close, their white armor distinct even in the horrendous visual conditions. Wherever she was, wherever they all were even if they didn’t realize they were being watched, it absolutely was not Keldabe. For one, the planet was currently lacking in the perpetually assaulting rainfall that took place during the night she had just been whisked away from. It was also much warmer than the city, despite the obvious lack of natural sunlight. 

The _verde_ moved with calculated purpose and organization that Tarin had never seen in Stormtroopers. The Imperial soldiers were cannon fodder at best, only effective in inflicting violence and enforcing the Empire’s tyrannical rule thanks to their sheer numbers and lack of resistance. These troops however, appeared to be trained adequately and capable of operating like an army that garnered results. 

The implications of that were both terrifying and inconsequential at the same time. If these men became the new standard for imperial forces, then it was safe to say, albeit a begrudging admittance, that Mandalore would be one of the only worlds with a militia capable of standing up to them. 

But the issue, or lack of, was also of no concern for Tarin. When she took charge of her people she dedicated herself to drilling them fiercely. Tarin had sharpened her people into a fighting force that was unmatched by any army or warrior culture across the galaxy. Her Supercommandos were honed into unstoppable killing machines that possessed a versatility that was hitherto undreamed of. 

Furthermore, she was at the center of it all. Vader had deployed five hundred ‘elite’ 501st units to Keldabe with the intention of flushing her out prior to when he touched ground. It was for naught, and Tarin knew it before she even sensed them in orbit. She had slaughtered every single man in efficient fashion before Vader’s shuttle could even depart for the Star Destroyer in orbit. Whether they fell to a blade, blaster, snapped neck, lightning, or lightsaber was inconc thanks to the uncountable litany of corpses. The only truth was that by the time the hulking form of Anakin Skywalker made planetfall, Tarin had ended each trooper's life in an effortless, brutal display. 

It would be the same here as it was on Keldabe and every world and battle prior. After further observation she noticed yet another intriguing detail. The troopers trademark white armor was covered by markings of orange paint that was not of any particular repeating pattern on each man. 

The color of the markings was something that Tarin was all too familiar with. She had seen it in shared memories that she experienced when she meditated with her father in his lonely abode. It prompted her to look closer at the design of their armor, and her assumptions proved correct upon secondary observation. 

She retreated behind the tree and fought to calm her breath, because if she was truly right in the conclusion she came to, then these men were Clones. More importantly, they were the 212th Attack Battalion, the men commanded by her father during the war. Tarin looked out once more and extended her hearing. Sure enough, they conversed with identical voices. The rough Concord Dawn accent that a few of her own _verde_ possessed was achingly familiar in the troopers in front of her. She stepped back once more and raised her head to the sky as she closed her eyes. She laughed, softly at first before it grew to an erratic, haughty laughter. Sidious, the Force, whatever the _shab_ this was, it had a ridiculously weird sense of humor. 

A line that one trooper uttered stopped her laughter dead in its tracks. 

“Remember men, the Umbarans have stolen our brothers' armor. We’re moving on an enemy dressed like the 501st.” 

“Copy that, sir,” said one of the troops, followed by a disgusted “That’s just wrong, even for Seppies.” 

Tarin felt the blood drain from her face. Her heart ached. The situation was no longer cruelly comedic. Umbara. _Shabla_ Umbara. It was a campaign that she was intimately familiar with. The grief on her father’s face when describing the events that took place on the Separatist world had sent piercing sorrow into Tarin’s own heart for a multitude of reasons. 

After collaborating with different rebel cells, she eventually had the pleasure of meeting Captain Rex and Ahsoka Tano, Skywalkers _alor’ad_ and his Padawan. The married couple quickly became confidants for Tarin and they eventually morphed into family figures for her. She had a respect for the Clones that grew largely in part thanks to her friendship with Rex. Ahsoka was the one who led her to Tatooine after the former Jedi discovered Tarin’s parentage and got over her initial shock. 

On many occasions she found herself meditating on the unjust situation that the GAR was thrust into during the war. Her mind brewed a righteous fury at the Jedi Order and how they could so easily fall into the role of Generals leading a slave army when they vehemently professed to hold in reverence the sanctity of sentient life. 

The topic was one that she surprisingly found herself not arguing about with her father. Apparently in the infinite amount of time to think that his exile provided, he came to the same conclusion that Tarin had, that the Jedi and even more so, the Republic, should not have led sentient beings who were created for war to their deaths. 

In part, she knew it was an opinion crafted over the mourning of Waxer and Boil. The former’s death on Umbara at the indirect hands of Pong Krell and his treachery. The latter, disappearing as Commander Cody had into the clutches of the Empire and the inhibitor chips that erased all free will from one's mind. 

Cody was entirely different, a man that she had seen move her father to tears at his mere mention. Sometimes she wished for nothing more than to hunt him down and remove his chip, to bring him back to her father and their broken, patchwork family so that he could amend his friendship with the Commander and apologize for the treatment of the _Vode._

Tarin steadied herself, releasing the emotions of flooding sadness and anger into the Force. She had a choice to make, one that would either legitimize the situation she found herself or confirm her descent into insanity. Forget being distraught, the Force definitely had an odd sense of humor. She would break Sidious’ grip later, if it was in fact Sidious doing that found her in a simulation of one of the pivotal battles of the Clone Wars. Maybe the Force wanted her to do what her father could not. There were a plethora of explanations and none of them would do any good being pondered over behind a tree. Tarin took a breath, and stepped out. 

—————————— 

Waxer hated Umbara. It was eerily dark and suffocatingly humid. The uneven terrain made marching a hellish endeavor and to top it all off, the local Separatist forces had stolen the armor of their fallen brothers in a macabre display that was, in his opinion, a dishonorable excuse for a tactic. 

Of course, a communications blackout between the men under his command and General Kenobi’s main force did not serve to alleviate the tension that had befallen the men. It was an ill feeling that seeped into their bones with every step through the hazy fog. It penetrated their minds and was amplified by the annoying chittering of hidden insects that concealed themselves amongst the glowing plants in their path. 

Waxer had survived worse, but Umbara was proving to be a test of every aspect of himself that he possessed as a soldier. Furthermore, as a member of the 212th Attack Battalion under a Jedi General that actually gave a _kriff_ about their lives, who saw them as men and not replaceable flesh droids, Waxer and his _vode_ had more experience than most. Each brother knew their worth under the Marshal Commander and their Jedi. 

But the nervous energy that Umbara pulsed and radiated with was like nothing they had ever faced, and as the commanding officer, Waxer held the authority in both rank and personal experience to come to that conclusion. So when a woman in modified Jedi robes and what appeared to be Mandalorian armor who bore an implaceable familiarity stepped out from behind a tree that was barely ten feet from them, Waxer thought that the tension just might snap. He prayed that he was wrong. 

The collective noise of blasters being raised sounded as the individual made her presence known. Waxer thanked the Force, as General Kenobi often did, for the visibility that his visor optics provided. Before he could take charge as the highest ranking officer and demand an identification, she spoke. 

“ _Su cuy’gar, Vode,_ ” she said in fluent _Mando’a_ , shocking all of the men briefly. After getting over his initial curiosity, Waxer assumed his role. “Identify yourself,” he said in a commanding tone as he leveled his blaster at her. 

The voice she responded in held an unbridled clarity that Waxer had borne witness too only in Jedi. The cultured accent held an edge of world weariness that, amazingly, accompanied complete confidence. She shook her head, copper hair waving side to side. “Who I am is irrelevant at the moment, Waxer. What’s important is that you’re walking into a trap. The Umbaran’s aren’t wearing your armor. You’re about to gun down the 501st, your brothers.” 

He took a moment to digest that as shock and speculation rippled throughout the nearby men. What registered first was that the individual had used his name despite the fact that he was confident that he had never met her before. He absently noticed the lightsaber hanging on her hip. _Lightsabers_ , at further glance. One one of which had a unique rectangular hilt design that he had never seen before. His weariness remained, however. General Grievous and Count Dooku used lightsabers. Even Dooku’s little pet, the assassin Ventress, used two _jettikade_. 

Still, something in the back of his mind beckoned him to play along with her proclamation. Maybe it was the instinct he had learned to trust throughout the war that pushed him to place a certain amount of trust in the complete stranger, maybe it was something else. Regardless, he joined the verbal dance. “Why should we believe you, ma’am?”

She smiled and it was brutally expressive, full of sorrow and pain and the briefest flash of what he could have sworn was pity. “General Krell is a _darjetii_. He orchestrated this communications blackout and fed the 501st the same information on the Umbaran’s supposed disguise tactics. He has no regard for you and the individuality of your brothers. He doesn’t see you as unique men like I do, like Kenobi does.” 

That seemed to give Waxer pause. In the Force, Tarin noted their brief admiration for her and what her words entailed. Providing warmth and acknowledgment for the brave man before her made her heart swell, vision or not. 

“How do we know you’re not lying to us. How do we know you’re not a Seppie spy,” one of the men posed in an accusing question. Waxer was going to reprimand him for lashing out, but he was halted as the woman did something that none of them would ever expect. 

She lifted one hand up in a placating gesture and slowly reached for the odd looking saber. Their weapons readied for fight but she simply lifted it up to the side and made a gesture that beckoned them to watch. And watch they did, as a brilliant, black blade ignited from the hilt with a mesmerizing sound that was completely different than the usual snap hiss that their General’s blue saber emitted. The ‘sharp’ edge was dappled with patterns of what looked like a web, or lively white lightning that danced randomly. The fathomless dark blade glowed with an ethereal white haze that pulsed every so slightly as if it had its own heartbeat. 

“This is the _Dhakadau_ , a lightsaber that is the only one of its kind. It was crafted by Tarre Vizsla, the first Mandalorian ever inducted into the Jedi Order.” She swung it lightly, but with confidence, as if to display the point she was moving towards in speech. 

“After his departure from the Order, Vizsla obtained the title of _Mand’alor_ , the sole ruler of my people. Upon his death, the blade was brought back to the Jedi Temple, where it resided for years before his ancestors stole it back during the fall of the Old Republic. In the millenium that passed, this saber became a symbol of Mandalorian leadership, one that was to be wielded by each _Mand’alor_ throughout time. The aforementioned time passed, until I came to possess it.” 

She looked at the trooper who had addressed her and then her gaze moved to Waxer. Her eyes flashed dangerously, but it was a danger not meant for him or his brothers, of that he inexplicably was certain. “You asked me to prove I am not lying to you, and you,” she said, pointing to Waxer, “asked me to identify myself. She deactivated the blade and calmly placed it on her hip.

“I am the _Mand’alor_ ,” she declared proudly. “Your progenitor, Jango Fett, was the _Mand’alor_ before me. He held that title despite betraying our tenets by not acting as a true father to all of you, an action that I apologize for on his behalf. But you, _Vode,_ ” she mused. “In my eyes you are Mandalorians. You are my people, worthy people at that. You are proud warriors who take care of your own and fight honorably for a righteous cause. I will _never_ fight against you.” 

Silence followed. It blanketed every fiber of the atmosphere as her words slammed into the speechless men. General Kenobi had treated them as humans, just as Skywalker and Koon did to their men. But no one had ever outright accepted them in their entirety. No one had acknowledged the sins that some of the _Vode_ felt Jango Fett had committed. Yet here stood a woman who reaffirmed them and ensured them of a status, a belonging. 

When someone finally spoke, it was the same _verd_ who had questioned her. This time, his voice held reverence rather than suspicion. Waxer was in complete agreement with his address as well. “What would you have us do?,” the trooper asked quietly. 

The woma— _Mandalore_ , and oh if that wouldn’t take some getting used to, smiled at him, brighter this time and full of mischievous ferocity. Her eyes glinted. “You don’t have to do anything _vod._ Just hold your position here. You,” she said, turning to Waxer, “take off your _buy’ce_ and come with me.” She clarified softly at his hesitant look. “Trust me _verd._ Nothing will happen to your men and I won’t let anything happen to you. You have my word.” 

Waxer flexed his jaw and gave a sharp nod. That same nagging feeling had turned into a burn within him, a notion that somehow, this woman would change everything he knew for the better. He took off his helmet and clipped it to his belt. “What do you need me to do, General?,” he asked. 

The _Mand’alor_ laughed, an elegant musical sound. “Just call me Tarin _vod,_ and follow my lead.” Waxer reeled slightly, surprised at the casual revelation of her name and further insistence that he, a soldier, address her on a first name basis. 

There was also that she had called him her brother. 

Another laugh followed and he realized she apparently expected his reaction. Waxer grinned, but his amused expression quickly turned to shock as she ignited a purple lightsaber and leapt over the cover of the steep ditch. He asked the _ka’ra_ to preserve him one last time and with that, he followed her. 

———————————— 

Captain Rex despised Umbara, almost as much as he despised General Krell. He hated the position that the Besalisk Jedi put him in, hated that he had to come to terms with the realization that a Jedi could view him and his brothers in the same light that the Separatists did. His stomach turned, a feeling he had become familiar with while deployed on this dark, Force forsaken planet. As Captain of what was arguably the most famous legion in the GAR, Rex had learned to trust his instincts often, and everything about the current situation screamed of hidden danger. 

Something was off about Krell, something he was constantly warring with himself about. He should have addressed it sooner. Fives and Jesse had almost been executed for _kriffs_ sake. Hardcase was gone, another _vod_ lost to the conflict that Rex was starting to question more frequently during every waking moment. He was snapped out of his despairing thoughts by a nudge from Kix. 

“-ptain? Rex?,” said the medic. 

“I'm here, Kix, sorry. Just got a little sidetracked,” he said. It was true, Rex had found himself increasingly lost in thought during this campaign. It didn’t help that the line of thinking he always followed was bordering on treasonous. It was something he found he might be willing to sacrifice if it was ultimately beneficial to the future of his brothers. But at the same time he was Captain of the 501st, a leader too influential for the _Vode_ to lose. Rex could have made himself a martyr, but Cody would never forgive him, and he would leave his brothers behind to fend for themselves. And Ahsoka, which was a different story entirely. 

“I was saying that there's a situation Rex, an urgent one.” The medics' voices sounded both stressed and concerned. 

“Right, what have we got?” He asked the question expecting a quick verbal rundown of what the medic had discovered, or what another trooper had discovered and thus relayed to the medic. Instead, he just received a hand gesture, up and over the ditch that he and Kix were huddled in. “ _That_ ,” Kix said pointedly, “is what we’ve got.” 

As it turned out, ‘that’ happened to be Waxer, one of Cody’s best if Rex had any recollection of his brothers in the 212th, walking helmetless through the fog, side by side with a female Jedi Rex had never seen before. The _jetii_ was clothed in the strangest mixture of robes and _beskar’gam_ Rex had ever seen, all of which was almost completely covered in blood. The crimson stained the entire surface of the robes, drenching the woman in its thick coating. A purple lightsaber was ignited and held in one hand, casually pointed toward the ground at a slanted angle as she walked. What was even more peculiar was that Waxer seemed to be completely in tune with… whatever she was doing. 

Before Rex could reveal himself, the Jedi’s eyes snapped directly to him, almost as if she was completely aware of his location the entire time. She nudged waxer with her off hand and nodded toward Rex’s position at the hilltop. Her voice boomed authoritatively as Rex vaulted over the trench and began to walk. Kix’s protests could be heard in the background. “ _Sha’kajir, Vode_ ” she exclaimed. It caught Rex slightly off guard but it also made sense. General Kenobi knew a little of the _Vode's_ language thanks to what Cody exclaimed was time spent on Mandalore when he was younger, but to have a Jedi speak so fluently was surprising. She was, however, Mandalorian, or wearing the armor at least. But the pronunciation indicated a native speaker. 

Rex called for his men to stand down even though they had not yet engaged. He beckoned Kix to follow and the medic quickly caught up to them. They soon found themselves face to face with their fellow clone and the strange _jetii_ . “Waxer, _vod,_ I’m gonna need a hell of an explanation for this,” he said breathily, still dazed at the turn of events. It wasn’t the man who he addressed that answered him though. “ _Su cuy’gar, alor’ad._ I am General Tarin. Do you have a position established?” the Jedi asked. 

For his part, Rex decided that he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. He looked to Waxer for any indication of foul play. Waxer made a discreet hand signal to him, _she’s trustworthy_. When he looked back, Rex saw only sympathy, rather than frustration at being circumvented. “Just over that ridge General,” he pointed behind him. 

“ _Ori’jate._ ” She turned behind her and raised her voice. “Come on out, _verde_ , it's safe!” Rex watched in astonishment as an entire detachment of the 212th rose up from behind the ridge she had spoken toward, all of them with their helmets clipped to their sides revealing their faces as fellow _vod’e_ . “Waxer, tell our _vode_ to make for the 501st’s position. Weapons down, we’re all on the same side here. Rex will have his men do the same while they hold.” 

Waxer snapped a salute to her and walked away. The Jedi turned to the shocked Captain. She smiled warmly. “Let’s head toward your trenches Captain, we have much to discuss.” With that, she began to walk up the hill toward Rex’s men, with the Captain and his medic in tow. 

After reaching the 501st’s forward position, Tarin gave both groups of men a complementary order to talk amongst themselves and rest, while she organized a smaller group to provide an explanation in hopes of hashing out details on what they’d see pertinent to reveal to the rest of the men.

Once the confused legion had settled down with the equally perplexed but slightly more confident battalion, she found a secluded area of the line they established and called Rex, Kix, Fives, Waxer, and the trooper who had questioned her upon their initial meeting — Trapper, as it turned out — to the section of the hill. 

She began her tale, reluctantly at that as she truly felt for what the men would have had to endure had she not intervened — furthermore they actually _had_ experienced Krell’s treachery in that way. Tarin was still having a less-than-pleasant internal debate on the reality of her situation. If the battle had gone as Krell planned, Waxer would not come out alive. Vision, trick, manipulation or not, if she could save any version of her father’s men, she would, consequences be damned. 

Tarin ached even further as she saw the men’s faces turn from their initial shock into rage and then quiet despair as she revealed the trap they almost walked into. 

Rex was taking it the hardest, as she knew he would. The Captain may have been a hardened soldier, _jatne be te jatne_ at that, but he was a kind soul at heart, who cared for nothing more than he cared for the safety of his brothers. 

Kix was silent disgust turned into visible fury. His mind raged with unreleased anger and sorrow mixed with hopeless confusion. 

Fives was quiet and she’d known from many somber conversations with the actual Rex that his own inaction during the Umbara campaign had driven a wedge in their relationship. They were still close brothers, maybe not to the same degree of camaraderie that Rex shared with Cody, but it was a significant blow to the outlook of all the _Vode_ who were present during the campaign. The ARC Trooper had his gaze bolted to the group. He swore and let out a quiet, breathy ‘ _demagolka_.’

Rex clenched his jaw, looking as if he wanted to vomit profusely and kill Krell at the same time. Tarin was glad to see that the reservations she initially sensed in the Captain were gone, replaced by hard conviction. He looked up at her and broke the silence. “What are we going to do General?” 

Tarin had formulated a plan as soon as she realized the situation she was in, or at least seemed to be in. The horrible act that Krell had sought to cause had been prevented, now it was just a manner of removing him from command. 

He would resist, just as her father explained. But it would be for naught. Tarin had been seconds from killing one of the most powerful Force wielders to ever live only minutes prior. Krell would be nothing. She leveled her gaze with Rex’s own. “I’m going to relieve him of duty. He’ll be charged with treason and executed after we question him.” 

Rex nodded darkly. “He pulled a lightsaber on Fives and he calls us by our numbers with complete disdain. He won’t go quietly sir,” Kix spoke up. 

Tarin turned to the medic, the same furious glint in her eye from when she had laid out the plan for Waxer. She smiled menacingly. “Oh, I'm counting on it Kix.” 

An inexplicable sense of warmth rippled through the gathered men at the confidence of the newly arrived and increasingly unorthodox Jedi who cared for them as if they were her own flesh and blood — who also happened to be the sole ruler of Mandalorian people if tradition was to be abided by. 

Fives raised his head as he seemed to come to the realization that everyone present, save for Waxer, lacked an explanation. “With respect, General, who are you?” 

Tarin chuckled to herself at his military decorum. That was something she’d definitely have to train out of them, at least when they were addressing her. She had rallied Mandalore with no lack of charisma and visible care for the people under her guidance and this would be no different, because she truly did care. “ _Gedet’ye_ , call me Tarin, and as for your question, that’s a story that Waxer can fill you in on while we backtrack to the command center. But before we do that, we need to fill the men in on the plan.” 

Kix cleared his throat. “The plan, si— _Tarin?_ ,” he clarified, pronouncing the name with stress on accentuation as if testing it out. 

“ _‘Lek, vod,_ the plan,” she said she stood up. She waved a hand in a scooping motion, gesturing for them to head toward where the others were gathered. They all stood and followed. Tarin’s approach caught their attention and some of them who were sitting stood up at the ready. Every one of her steps held an otherworldly confidence, armored boots carried a warrior etched with purpose and authority. 

“ _Ke’shush!,_ ” she said, and the heads that weren’t already directed toward her snapped to attention. “As you all have likely heard, I uncovered a plot created by General Krell to put the 501st and 212th in a situation that would have them firing on each other. I’m going to tell you first that those rumors are true.” 

A collection of shocked, angry murmurs went through the men. “Krell has committed treason against the Republic and I am going to proceed with the necessary actions to detain and execute him.” 

More surprise followed that. She held up a hand, asking for silence. “Furthermore, seeing as I consider all of you _Mando’ade_ , Krell has committed a grave crime against my people. The _darjetii_ sought to use you as pawns for his own twisted machinations.” 

She paused to let her words sink in. “Krell sees the men of the GAR as less than sentient, flesh droids to be used as tools and not treated as the unique men that you are. But I don’t, and I sure as _haran_ don’t take lightly to the actions of evil beings like him, especially when it affects my fellow Mandalorians.” 

A voice spoke up. “Sir, you… you consider us your people?,” he said tentatively. She turned to the trooper in question and smiled. 

“Absolutely _ner’vod_ . In fact, Krell’s disregard for your rights as living breathing human beings is loosely connected to a much larger issue, the _Vode’s_ status as republic property and how that in and of itself contradicts with the contents of its constitution. Both the Republic and the Jedi Order hold the sanctity of sentient life as an important value at the core of their respective institutions, governmental and religious alike.” 

Tarin paused to give a very pointed look to Rex. She tried to convey just how sincerely she meant her words before she continued. “I want to formulate my following statement in a way that is the most respectful and considerate as possible, but it’s just too difficult to touch this subject with a professional intent.” She breathed in. “You’re slaves.” 

An uneasy feeling settled throughout the gathered men. Some of them radiated frustration and others seemed completely nonplussed at the woman who was bringing a voice to conclusions that the _Vode_ had gradually come to as they discovered their individuality. 

She held up her hand once more. “I know it’s a difficult thing to hear. It might make you uncomfortable and some of you are probably even more so unwilling to digest that fact, but it’s the truth. You are each a unique individual, in personality and mannerism as well as in the Force. With that being said, you’re an army created for a society that swears it’s abhorrence to slavery. You cannot be sentient beings as you are and still considered property. Furthermore if the Republic was to truly care about your individuality, you should have the right to lay down your arms and walk away from the GAR without suffering desertion charges and summary decommission.” She paused once more, allowing the men a moment to process the truth that she spoke. 

For many of them it was a welcome acknowledgement that they had never expected from a Jedi, or any being with actual sentient rights for that matter. For most, it hardly felt real. Tarin had taken everything they’d realized over the course of the war and their collective existence and laid it out bare. She put the brutal truth in front of them and thus made it undeniable. The conviction she spoke with filled their hearts and made them yearn for more, for recognition and acceptance. 

“ _Burc’ye, vode_ , I can’t claim to know the extent of how upsetting this reality is to you, and I wouldn’t want to impose on your struggle, but as many of you have assumed, I am the _Mand’alor_ ,” she took the Darksaber from her hip and ignited it, much to their surprise, “and that gives me grounds to make declarations.” 

Tarin raised her voice, her gaze raked through the gathered men. “So I promise you this, I swear to you on my right as Mandalore, if you choose, at any point, to step forward and seek admittance into my Clan and House, I would accept you without hesitation. In our culture, spoken oath’s in the native tongue are legally binding. I would gladly invoke the _Gai Bal Manda_ for every single one of you.” 

Her voice became softer and took a sympathetic tone, her understanding apparent in her words. “I know it’s a lot to take in. That’s a monumental decision to make, but rest assured that it wouldn’t change your relationship with your brothers in any way. You’d simply be considered sentient beings in the Mandalore system and Mandalorian space. You could be citizens with all the rights of free people. There are myriad bureaucratic processes I would have to partake in once the Republic and the pacifist New Mandalorians catch wind of my decision to adopt all of you as legal members of my people, but my friends I promise you, I have beat insurmountable odds time and time again. When tactics and due process failed, I gritted my teeth and went to battle for what I believed in through pure force of will alone, and I’d happily go to war for your right to a better life. With all of that in mind, I’d like you to take as much time as you need to process what you’ve just heard, and for now we’re going to pack up and head back to the command center to deal with the _hutuunyc aruetii_ hiding there.” 

With that, she turned toward the command center and began the trek toward Krell, leaving the stunned men to follow in her wake. 

Rex shook himself out of the visceral shock he’d inadvertently submerged into and gave the order to follow the General. His mind raced as he processed the implications of what he’d heard, what they all heard. 

Who exactly was this mysterious Jedi who walked out of the fog of Umbara and saved them from malicious intentions, who single handedly brought swift vocalization to the plight of the Clones, a woman who — as far as everyone was concerned — had just met them yet readily accepted them into her ranks, her _family_ , without any hesitation. The absolutely bizarre Mandalorian Jedi had done in fifteen minutes what every Jedi before her had failed to do for almost _two years_. 

General Skywalker was all well and good and the men were certainly grateful for his treatment, but he had rash tendencies that occasionally resulted in the unnecessary death of more brothers. When his temper flared it could even induce fear in the men and no matter how much he recognized and bonded with them, there had always been an unspoken distance between him and the men, a line that he simply wouldn’t cross. 

Military regulations aside, it was that very same metaphorical line that so many of the men wanted a Jedi to step over, to immerse themself in the culture of the _Vode_ and embrace them for who they wanted to be. 

And General Tarin had just _obliterated_ that line. 

She swept them up with a reckless abandon that stirred blazing warmth inside the hearts of each man around her. Now there she was, marching toward Krell, fueled by righteous fury for the men that he had wronged and sought to wrong further. In the blink of an eye she made their struggles her own, and she did it in a manner that was — astonishingly — almost _joyous_. 

Next to himself, Rex heard Fives addressing him. “ _Vod,_ ” the ARC Trooper said. He sounded as if he was doing his best not to choke on the sentiment that had filled all of them, the pure, blissful heat of resolve that coursed through their bones as they marched through their reverie. 

Rex shook his head and gathered every military instinct he had to pull himself together. He looked at Fives, who was still equally as dazed, if not more. “ _Vod,_ ” Fives said more pointedly. 

Rex cleared his throat. “Yeah, I know.” 

“Did you hear what I he—“ 

“Yeah, Fives, yeah I did,” he breathed, still not fully centered. He noticed absentmindedly that his feet were carrying him in pursuit of General Tarin. Waxer and Trapper snickered next to them, causing Rex, Fives, and Kix to look in their direction, 

Waxer shrugged in a nonspecific manner as he put his bucket on. “She’s something else, that’s for sure.” 

The captain of the 501st Legion looked ahead at the General. Whether or not he voiced his agreement or simply thought it to himself, he couldn’t guarantee. But he did know one thing, Tarin was quickly shaping up to be someone who he wanted to follow. 

Rex put his helmet on and made his way to catch up with the General. 

* * *

Usually when the plan was described as simple it ended up being anything but that. Rex found his nerves settling down slightly when he realized that with the new General, that trend would not be repeating, as everything appeared to have gone smoothly thus far. 

Tarin had asked Rex to have the men form a perimeter around the command center, a precaution taken with the assumption that Krell would attempt to escape. 

The small details of her extensive care for the men shone through in all of her actions. She stressed the importance of a wide berth for Krell to move around in because she knew that he could easily kill many of them if they were to come within a close distance of his lightsabers. 

Strategically it was sensical, but the underlying implication made itself known to the general populace when she had placed a hand on one troopers’ shoulder and told him quite pointedly that they would not be losing a single man to Krell. 

While the men waited in anticipation of the rogue General, Tarin would ride the lift up to where he had taken up residence and she would incapacitate and capture him. Whereupon they would question and summarily execute him for treason after finding ample evidence. 

Rex’s hopes of possibly avoiding completely random deviations from the plan were crushed just as the main viewing window of the command tower audibly shattered. He and the rest of his men looked up after hearing the glass break only to see the giant Besalisk Jedi falling from the broken window. 

Krell’s form plummeted to the ground and he was barely able to use the Force to land. His eyes were wide and flickered to the clones surrounding him. Rex caught wind of his seemingly distressed state almost immediately. 

The corrupt General was a being that he had come to associate with danger and mal intent. Now, standing before Rex on shaky legs, Krell looked anything but the cruel manipulator he had been when he issued their orders earlier. Three of his four arms were completely gone. Blood dripped out of the empty sockets where sinewy connective tissue limply sought to hold on to limbs that were no longer there. 

His only remaining hand held a lightsaber and the giant hilt was devoid of a blade. Krell’s breaths came in rasps, his eyes moved erratically around, focusing on no man in particular. It was actually an instinct that Rex was all too familiar with. The _darjetii_ was scanning for a threat that did not include them, looking for something beyond the surrounding men. 

And that’s when Rex realized it, Krell was _terrified_. 

Before he had time to process what exactly the traitorous General had to fear, the sound of boots lightly hitting the ground followed by the ignition of a lightsaber drew his attention. The sight that greeted him was one he would never forget. 

General Tarin stood in front of Krell in the circle of men, holding one of Krell’s lightsabers and looking like she was quite possibly the most dangerous person in existence. Glass crunched underneath her feet as she stepped toward the Besalisk. 

What shocked Rex the most was the way that Krell instantly fell backwards in fright, he scrambled to get up but he abruptly appeared to freeze in place. Tarin took that moment to speak and Rex realized she was using the Force to hold him still. 

“I have to admit,” she said, twirling the hilt of Krell’s saberstaff nonchalantly, “I don’t like the design.” With that, she held it up for him to see, and gripped down on it with unnatural strength. The metal crunched compliantly in her clenched hand, like a malleable liquid. In an instant she had effortlessly bent the saber into a disfigured mess. 

Krell’s eyes widened as she continued to walk forward. Tarin had ignited the Darksaber and was carving a glowing trail of embers into the ground as she strolled toward him menacingly. “Please, mercy.” 

She stopped in front of him and tilted her head. She looked like she possessed not a single shred of self-doubt at her actions and she spoke in a cold tone that invoked undeniable clarity. “You perpetrated a grave transgression against my people. Such acts do not go unpunished.” 

Lightsaber combat was somewhat of a difficult subject to cover for Clones, in that they had limited knowledge of it. Rex had witnessed countless duels between his General and Cody’s General and he had a basic understanding of how there were forms that split lightsaber combat into styles. It allowed the wielder to study and perfect a style of fighting that was best suited to them. 

Rex had quickly learned that General Skywalker was one of the most talented dualists in the Order. It reflected in the combat that the Captain witnessed. Skywalker was a force to be reckoned with. He cut down droids with effortless strokes and a stamina that seemed endless, but his blows were always calculated, precise, and blisteringly fast. 

This was nothing like that. 

This was something that Rex quickly concluded was so far beyond his comprehension that it transcended anything he had seen a Jedi do before. Tarin was so much more. 

The Darksaber had been pointed at the ground and humming with that unnatural sound before it flashed it out in conjunction with Tarin’s body in a display of movement so quick that Rex wasn’t sure if it was even physically possible. 

In the next moment, after Rex realized he hadn’t blinked the entire time, Krell’s remaining arm lay detached on the ground beside him, still holding the unlit saber in the now lifeless palm. Krell writhed on the ground in agony but his breaths became slow. He was bleeding out slowly as he succumbed to the wounds he fell from the tower with. 

Tarin stepped closer to the groaning form of General Krell. She twirled the Darksaber into a reverse grip just as she had done before she attempted to strike down Vader. She stepped over his downed body and raised it over her head. 

He took his final moments to plead with her for his life, a litany of frantic apologies streaming from his lips. General Tarin appeared completely indifferent to his cries for mercy. With practiced ease and no reservations on killing him, she brought the Darksaber down upon him. 

“No, no ple—“ he screeched. His cry’s were cut off as the black blade pierced his skull and quickly ended his life. Tarin drew the blade out and let his body fall to the ground once more. She twirled the hilt and clipped it to her belt. 

For a while, none of the surrounding men moved. It was as if everyone was holding their breath, absolutely awestruck by the display of power. Rex watched as she stepped away from the dead Jedi and turned her attention to him. He nodded back, still reeling at the ease at which she had bested such a strong opponent. 

Tarin turned to address the men. “Krell will never be able to hurt the _Vode_ again. Everybody eat and get some rest. If anybody needs me I’ll be tending to the wounded with the medics. Tomorrow we push for the capital, ideally _not_ along main roads that are littered with mines.” The last part of her address got a few laughs out of the men. 

Apparently Fives held similar sentiments when it came to the duel — if it could even be called that — they had witnessed. He cleared his throat next to Rex. “That,” he said pointedly, “was _shabla_ amazing.”

Rex nodded in agreement. It was true, they had grown so accustomed to being led by Skywalker and occasionally Kenobi whenever they did joint operations with the 212th, case in point, that the two Generals had unwittingly established a standard for the men as to what elite lightsaber combat looked like. 

It was a logical conclusion. If the former Master and Padawan duo had been so renowned then it only made sense that they would be paragons. Despite him and his brothers’ limited knowledge of swordsmanship, they had picked up on things quickly thanks to their military training and raw attentiveness. But in light of what they had just witnessed, apparently there were outliers. 

Really, _really_ , powerful outliers. 

_Kriffing hell_ , Tarin had moved like speed personified, executing her motions with brutal lethality and the rigid confidence of someone who was intimately familiar with victory. She was like ferocity incarnate, or lightning in human form. 

Or both. Definitely both. 

Tarin had upped the ante on what I meant to wield a _jettikad_. There was something so incredibly _other_ about the way she moved. In fact, it permeated all aspects of her being. She had stalked toward Krell with a murderous conviction that radiated finality. She stepped with an otherworldly confidence, as if it was the most natural thing ever for her to expect the galaxy to bend to her every whim — and it felt like it _did_. 

Tarin exuded power, her every motion saw it dripping off of her in waves and commanding her surroundings. 

Whatever had happened in the central tower had shaken the _darjetii_ to the deepest reaches of his soul. It made him erratic, and put forth a truth that was only reaffirmed in Tarin‘s swift slaying. 

Krell was dead the moment she had heard of his plan.

Which presented a few different facts, the first and perhaps most prevalent being that Tarin was dangerous. Incredibly dangerous. 

The second conclusion was significantly more lighthearted and brought with it that same warmth that the General inflicted when she spoke with them like they were the most important people in the world. Because it meant that Tarin was perfectly willing to exercise violent means, specifically for the protection of the _Vode_ . As _verde_ , that was almost equivalent to a profession of love. 

Rex found the woman in question kneeling next to a cot. On it was a _vod_ from the 212th and he was in a less than healthy state. His leg was bent at an awful angle. The bone protruded from where his shin would usually be and touched open air. An external break then. 

Kix leaned over and explained that this specific injury might result in amputation due to the fact that they didn’t have the necessary equipment to do anything close to resetting the bone. At least they thought. 

Tarin was speaking quietly with the brother, whose face was screwed up in an expression of agony. He nodded to her, laid back, and closed his eyes. 

Then, everyone watched in amazement as Tarin brought her hands to hover over the injured leg, palms down. She spread each one out lightly, a few inches of space between them and the mangled extremity, which was doing something that even the veteran medics couldn’t diagnose. 

But Rex realized that it wasn’t the limb, it was the General. His eyes widened as the bones knit themselves back together and the leg straightened. Tarin moved her right hand in a slight swiping motion and the broken skin connected back with the skin on the upper part of the man's shin. It healed over into a complete tissue surface once more. The only indication that there was ever an injury was a slight white mark where the formerly broken bone had pierced the skin. 

Tarin looked up at the trooper. “Alright _vod_ , you’re all finished. You can put weight on it as soon as you want, but I’d advise you to get some sleep first. Some people have a little shocked period after being put back together.” She chuckled to herself at the end of her statement, as if she wasn’t surrounded by men who were all gaping in amazement. 

Kix stepped forward. “General, what was that? How di—“ 

“Advanced Force healing,” she said, smiling brightly. 

“Right,” Kix said, dumbfounded. He shook his head lightly. “Um, if you’ll sit down I can check you over, sir— I mean Tarin.” 

She shook her head. “I’m fine Kix.” 

Fives stepped forward. “Si— Tarin.” She grinned. “You are _covered_ in blood.” 

“It’s not mine _vod,_ ” she said casually. 

“But still, you just dueled another Jedi to the death. Pretty sure that warrants at least a check-up.” 

“It wasn’t much of a duel,” she shot back. Fives sputtered at her antics. How could she speak so nonchalantly about how easily she killed a Jedi Master. Fives gathered himself. “Are you always this stubborn Tarin?” 

Silence. Everybody around them turned toward the conversation. At times they jested with General Skywalker, but they never outright made accusations, playful or not. But furthermore they didn’t do so with a person they hadn’t even known for a whole day. But Tarin just grinned brightly. “Oh you’re one to talk Fives,” she teased. 

Rex felt relieved at that, and then a little ashamed of himself for assuming that comedic banter would be cause for reprimand from this woman who had offered to adopt them as legal family members after having known them for half an hour. The memory of Krell addressing him by his number, sneering in disdain, echoed in his head. 

“She’s up there with General Kenobi,” Waxer said, which garnered an interesting reaction from Tarin. It started as a barked out laugh, loud and unrestrained, and escalated into all out laughter that she had to visibly compose herself from. 

“Oh Waxer, if you only knew,” she said in amusement — and quite cryptically, Rex noted. 

Trapper spoke up. “You know General Kenobi?” 

For the briefest moment, Tarin’s blue-grey eyes flashed with what Rex could have sworn was sorrow. She seemed to ache with it, as if she was grieving, but it passed as soon as it came. “Obi-Wan and I are,” she looked away briefly to gather herself. “He’s an old friend.” 

Kix was about to make another attempt to suggest that she submit to a medical examination but she stood up with a spring. “I’m going to keep watch. You boys rest, tomorrow we can close this out.” 

Rex chose that moment to intervene. “You should rest Tarin.” 

She shook her head. _Kriffing_ hell she _was_ like General Kenobi. The 212th’s Jedi avoided medbays like they were a disease. Rex recalled countless conversations with a very stressed out Cody about Kenobi’s ‘complete _shabla_ disregard for his own well-being’ as his _ori’vod_ had called it. “I'm fine. You guys should get some sleep. I’ll be in the command tower if you need me.” 

She put a hand on his shoulder before walking out of the makeshift medbay. Trapper was about to protest but it was stopped as Tarin shouted over her shoulder. “ _Jate ca’ra,_ ” she yelled, and then disappeared out the door. 

Fives turned to Waxer. “I think ‘something else’ might’ve been an understatement.” 

Waxer laughed. 

* * *

As the Marshall Commander of the GAR, Cody was the highest ranking Clone in the entire army. His experiences had brought him to countless worlds. He’d fought in numerous battles and lost many brothers. Throughout all of it, Cody had promised himself that he would refrain from indulging in pleasures that his _vode_ took part in. 

He had millions of men under his command after all. A fact which didn’t leave much time for things outside of military life. Not that a Clone was made for anything of the sort anyway. Cody wasn’t naive, he knew they were bred to die. He hadn’t exactly made his peace with it, but there was a sort of comfort in the strong brotherhood he shared with Rex and the gentle friendship he had with General Kenobi, who wrecked himself for the men despite their protests that he shouldn’t put his life above their own. 

But Kenobi had made it known early on that he did not view them as disposable. He made an actual effort to communicate with the men and treat them as equals and while they weren’t exactly on a brotherly level, Kenobi still treated them with respect. So Cody cherished the company of the wise older man and didn't think too much about how some brothers had established relationships with civilians and had plans for after the war. If it ever ended. 

Not that he felt romantically for the General. Cody had his fair share of hookups after a night out at 79’s where he had a nice glass of water and watched over his brothers. Each time it was with a woman, and Cody knew that females were his preference. 

Which was another fact that made the rumors about him and his General that much more annoying. He only hoped that Kenobi didn’t take his intentions as romantic. The Commander loved his brothers and each of them knew it, but at the end of the day, Cody wasn’t really the kind of person who felt emotions that strong on a romantic level. 

But _little gods_ if he didn’t feel something inside of him melt when Rex, Waxer, and their men showed up with a stunning copper-haired woman. When she spoke it was even more beautiful too, which was so foreign to Cody. 

“ _Su’cuy al’verde,_ ” she said in a mesmerizingly elegant core accent that had a pleasant edge to it. Cody realized he was staring. “ _Kote?_ ”

That certainly made Rex and the others more attentive. Nobody except his closest _vode_ called him by his real name, the one that he had chosen in original _Mando’a_ . It prompted him to realize that she was wearing an interesting combination of Jedi robes and Mandalorian armor. “ _Uh, su cuy’gar,_ General.” 

Rex snickered. 

“If you’ll follow me, we can meet up General Kenobi.” When he said that he could’ve sworn that a maelstrom of emotion passed through her beautiful blue eyes, but he put his assessment aside as they began to walk. 

—————————— 

Tarin was intimately familiar with what she had dubbed ‘weird Force _osik_ ’, but she had to admit that this was proving to be far beyond anything she had previously encountered. 

She was absolutely certain that at some point during the previous night she would have woken up imprisoned somewhere, probably tied down with an absurd amount of Force inhibiting restraints and prepared for a plethora of Sith torture. 

So when the night passed by quietly and all of the men were still physically there and prepped to move on the capital, she started to question the nature of her situation a little more deeply. 

Which brought her here, walking to an established base in the captured city where a Force-conjured younger version of her father was waiting for them to brief. With that in mind, she was now significantly more confident than last night that _this_ would be the moment where the Sith or the Force played their hand. 

What better way to get under her skin than taunt her with an incredibly realistic simulacrum of her military genius, Jedi Master parent in his prime. It was cruel beyond belief because the detail even spoke to her Mandalorian tendencies. However, she had slain thousands and spat in the face of death itself, so she was certain she could handle being mocked by a created image of her dead parent as it was dangled in front of her. Then she would break out of this _thing_ , and go from there. 

Or so she thought. 

As soon as she stepped in the door she registered that the Force signature she was sensing was just that, a Force signature, which absolutely did not exist — or at least appear — in visions. It was achingly familiar, lighter even, less worn down by the pain of having had his world completely destroyed. But it was there, Obi-Wan Kenobi was there, so bright and steady, that constant comfort that she had grown so familiar with in her years on Tatooine. 

Realization struck her in the face like a Star Destroyer traveling at lightspeed. Her father’s presence in the Force was here, Krell’s was also but she had been too invested in killing him to take much notice of it. She reeled at how the past day started to make so much sense, why everything felt so real. 

Umbara, the betrayal of Pong Krell, the _kriffing_ Clone Wars. 

Tarin knew she was staring but she couldn’t have cared less, too many thoughts were raging through her mind. Her father was standing only a few feet away from her in all of his High General glory. She was surrounded by the men who would be integral in the destruction of the Jedi Order against their own will. 

“ _Me’haar shab,_ ” she breathed, wide-eyed. 

She distantly noticed Rex asking if she was alright, but her feet carried her toward her father until she stood in front of him. He seemed to be eyeing her in amusement and visible curiosity. She concluded that he had noticed her display of speechlessness. But his face fell into a more serious expression quite quickly. 

Which was when she felt him attempting to examine her presence in the Force, a sense that she had honed extensively so that she could detect someone even when they weren’t pushing on her shields. “You must be General Tarin. I have to say, I’ve heard quite interesting things about you,” said Obi-Wan. 

Tarin blinked once and willed herself not to squeeze her eyes shut, to be strong in the face of whatever this was. She couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but stare at her parent’s face, a parent who she had felt, had _seen_ , pass into the Force. Tarin was aware that she needed to speak, but nothing came out at first. She finally found her voice after a moment of collecting herself. 

“Dad?” 

All of the _Vode_ , Cody and Rex especially, radiated with audible shock. But the most stunned person wasn’t a brother, or Tarin, it was Obi-Wan Kenobi. His eyes grew wide at her question and he seemed to go rigid in place. 

His reaction held merit relative to how recent events had played out. A massive disturbance in the Force had nearly knocked him unconscious only a day prior. Since then he had felt a strange, indescribable feeling at the back of his mind. 

But what startled him the most was how a Force bond snapped into place only seconds after the new General had addressed him as her _father_ of all things. 

Tarin stepped closer and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but remain still. He felt a staggering wave of emotion cascade from the younger woman’s mind. Grief, sorrow, confusion, hope, and so many other visceral feelings poured forth. All of them were drowned out by the raw, unbridled joy that sprung forward as she flung herself at him and hugged him like he was the greatest thing ever. 

Obi-Wan was too shocked to move, to return the hug or step back or simply just react at all. 

Tarin held no such reservations though. Her _buir_ was there, solid and real and there. His voice was the same smooth elegance that she had grown used to hearing and a pleasant ache erupted in her stomach at how it held none of the world weariness that the rise of the Empire had caused him. 

She was babbling incoherently and she knew it, tears streamed down her face as she released a litany of questions and statements that were interrupted by choked sobs. 

How could this be? How was she basking in the warmth of her father’s presence as she wrapped her arms around his figure, who was very much alive and tangible. But she stopped contemplating as a new thought occurred to her. 

She was better than this, better than displaying affection like a little girl. But most of all she was too adept at dealing with the obscurities of the Force to believe that a man she was completely confident had died was standing in front of her. 

She stepped back, full of a brutally hollowing sadness, angry at herself for believing for even a second that such things were possible. It hurt even more that the image of her father had widened his eyes and seemed to be hurt that she had broken the embrace so abruptly. 

Tarin reached for every single lesson she had learned, pulling on the expertly crafted restraint she had spent years perfecting and used it to flood herself with Resolve as she reached for the Darksaber and ignited it. 

Her efforts were for naught. She was slipping and she knew it, it was scarily similar to the moments of disorientation she experienced in Keldabe. Her emotions were spilling forward unchecked. But she wrapped herself in the dark side and channeled it with her light until she found that power induced euphoria of balance that she had become intimately familiar with. 

“You’re dead,” she said to the false Obi-Wan. It came out with so much less conviction than she had hoped to convey. The grey crept into the edges of her vision. 

“You’re dead, I felt you die— I _watched_ you die!” She half yelled and half sobbed. The grey crept closer. “Vader— Skywalker, he killed you! Anakin killed you!” 

At that, Obi-Wan reeled back as if he had been struck. _Good_ , Tarin thought to herself as the grey crept closer. She wouldn’t allow this imposter to prey on her sympathy. But her mind raced, the grey was suffocating, a narrow tunnel of visibility that was rapidly growing blurry. 

Tarin looked to the baffled image of her father and then swept her gaze to the fake Clones. The looks of concern, confusion, and utter bewilderment were present on all of their faces. Tarin disengaged the Darksaber and clipped it to her side only seconds before falling to her knees. 

She caught herself with her hands and fell to her side in rapid succession until she was splayed out on the floor of the command center. She saw nothing, in her eyes and in her mind. She was able to make out the faintest noises of concern that the _Vode_ yelped out. 

And then she knew no more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is appreciated. The next chapter is already halfway written. No idea when I’ll have that posted considering that my schedule is more of a jumbled spreadsheet visualized in my mind... which is, consequentially, perpetually on fire. 
> 
> Mando'a Translations: 
> 
> beskar: Mandalorian iron
> 
> Mand'alor: sole ruler
> 
> Dhakadau: The Darksaber, the lightsaber crafted by the first and only Mandalorian ever inducted into the Jedi Order, Tarre Vizsla. After it was stolen from the Jedi Temple during the fall of the Old Republic, the Darksaber became a symbol of leadership and the belief that whoever possessed it held claim to the Mandalorian throne was quickly adopted and passed down. 
> 
> verde: soldiers
> 
> shab: fuck
> 
> shabla: fucking 
> 
> alor'ad: captain 
> 
> *vode: siblings, brothers, sisters (Mando'a is a gender neutral language so the translation of words like "vod" and "ad" which respectively mean "sibling, brother, sister" and "child, son, daughter, is entirely dependent on the subject in question)  
> *It's important to note that there is a significant difference between this word and its capitalized version. The "Vode" are what many of the Clones call themselves. They've adopted the Mandalorian culture of their genetic template and many of their trainers and since they are a group of people who aren't exactly recognized as Mandalorian, they simply created their own variation. See "Vode An" for example. 
> 
> "Su cuy'gar, Vode": Hello, Brothers 
> 
> Mando'a: The language of Mandalore
> 
> jetiikade: lightsabers 
> 
> darjetii: Sith
> 
> buy'ce: helmet 
> 
> vod: sibling, brother, sister (also "comrade, mate")
> 
> Ka'ra: stars - ancient Mandalorian myth - ruling council of fallen kings
> 
> beskar'gam: armor 
> 
> "Sha'kajir, Vode!": cease-fire, Vode! 
> 
> "Su cuy'gar, alor'ad": Hello, captain
> 
> ori'jate: excellent
> 
> jatne be te jatne: the best of the best (singular)
> 
> demagolka: 
> 
> "'Lek, vod": Yeah, mate 
> 
> "Ke'shush!": Attention! 
> 
> haran: hell - literally, destruction, cosmic annihilation
> 
> burc'ye: friends
> 
> Gai Bal Manda: adoption ceremony, lit. name and soul
> 
> Hut'uunyc aruetii: cowardly traitor 
> 
> verd: soldier, warrior 
> 
> ori'vod: big sibling, big brother/sister, older brother/sister, special friend
> 
> "Jate ca'ra": goodnight
> 
> "Su'cuy al'verde": Hi commander 
> 
> osik: shit
> 
> "Me'haar shab": What the fuck
> 
> K’oyacyi ner’burc’ye,
> 
> -rel


	2. II.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took more time to write than I had initially hoped but I'm finding that I don't have that same caffeine-supported creative drive that other authors live by. There are some exciting prospects here that I actually plan to include in other fics, as well as an ample amount of plot building that kind of gets the branch-off arcs rolling. 
> 
> Nayc beta, mhi ash'amur sa'Mando'ade.

Not for the first time in the past two days, Obi-Wan Kenobi stared at the screen of the datapad he held in a vice-like grip, completely and utterly dumbfounded at what it contained. 

He had checked the first pad to see if it’s settings had malfunctioned and then double and triple-checked it for good measure. When that didn’t change the results on the screen, he had Kix run the DNA test three more times, on three different pads, which yielded the same outcome. 

That obsessive need for an explanation that garnered absolutely no answers beside data that contradicted his very reality had led him to once more look over the lines of text on the datapad, thoroughly nonplussed. 

Obi-Wan rubbed a hand over his eyes and blinked before looking at the screen once more. It presented the same words he had seen over and over again that had burned themselves into his conscience like an inescapable memory. 

_ 99.9% Match: Kenobi, Obi-Wan  _

_ 99.9% Match: Tachi, Siri _

When Kix had first approached him with the results of the test he had asked him to perform, pale-faced and unresponsive as he handed the Jedi General the pad, Obi-Wan had absolutely no idea what had caused the 501st medic’s shocked state, and furthermore he had even less of an inclination of what to expect from the test results. 

That the blood-covered young woman who instantly bonded with him, went from hugging him ferociously before drawing the Darksaber and turning aggressive at the flip of switch then claiming to have seen Anakin of all people kill him before she promptly passed out, was his actual biological  _ daughter  _ and not a delusional stranger was the absolute last thing he expected. 

But there it was, tested multiple times and laid out before him. 

Obi-Wan reached for every ounce of composure as he fought to find serenity in the face of the medic, whose expression made a lot more sense in light of the result. He had schooled his face into a mask of the Jedi Master that he was and requested that the medic keep silent on the predicament until they were able to find a logical explanation. 

He then made for his quarters to meditate on everything he had just experienced. That had turned into standing in bewilderment for an amount of time that his mind failed to register while he stared off at nothing in particular, which was  _ then _ followed by the meditation he initially planned on doing. 

The 212th and the 501st were aboard their cruisers en route back to Coruscant, followed closely behind by the 104th who had stayed for an extra day to secure post-siege operations and finalize the recapture of the planet. 

Obi-Wan wasn’t exactly sure how much time he spent alone in his quarters, accompanied only by the Force and the distant lull of hyperspace. When he finally came out he was still bereft of any clarity on the matter at hand. 

How exactly could he explain the situation? He had run through the implications of the woman’s age over and over again and cross referenced them with every memory he had of his interactions with Siri. After doing so multiple times, he was still left with an impossible situation. 

If it was to be believed that Tarin was his child, while also being the projected age of 20 years old that Kix provided, it would mean that Siri would have had to have given birth to the girl around the age of 13. Which was absolutely absurd. 

For one thing, Obi-Wan knew for a fact that he was not engaging in sexual activities at that age. The mere thought of that was repulsive to him. 

It also didn’t match up with what both of them were doing at the time. Siri was well into her apprenticeship with Adi Gallia and Obi-Wan was even further along with Qui-Gon. Neither of them so much as saw each other on the rare occasion that they were both at the Temple at the same time. When they were, they certainly didn’t go out of their way to make contact. 

Obi-Wan and Siri had despised each other when they were children. Neither one of them so much as spoke multiple times a week aside from tossing insults back and forth. The prickly blond girl had consistently expressed an adamant dislike of Obi-Wan during their formative years. 

There were so many aspects to the equation that pointed toward Tarin’s parentage being physically impossible and yet, there it was on the data pad. 

The most logical thing to do would be to wait for Tarin to wake up from her unconscious state so that they could question her accordingly and Obi-Wan had submitted to that conclusion and bided his time in meditation. 

That was, until Kix ran a slightly different test at Obi-Wan’s request. 

So he found himself sitting in the medbay once more, with yet another datapad in hand, staring at a midichlorian test that was almost equally as shocking as discovering he had a fully grown child. 

Obi-Wan tapped to a previous screen before swiping back to the test results. He looked up at Kix, who was equally as confused, if not more, considering that the Clones had little to no knowledge of the biological aspects of the Force. He rubbed a finger between his furrowed brow as he looked at the number once more. 

_ Confirmed count (per cell): 37,000  _

It was completely unheard of, unprecedented,  _ unthinkable _ . 

“What exactly does this mean, General?” Fives asked from across the room where he was gathered around the medical bunk that Tarin slept on. The girl was surrounded by Cody, Rex, Waxer, and Trapper, and had been in the company of those men almost constantly, beginning from the moment she collapsed. 

Obi-Wan’s stomach had churned as Rex explained to him what Krell had intended to happen. The Jedi had been losing themselves for years, much further back than even the war. At times it felt as if they only fell deeper as the battles dragged on. It was still a sickening realization, that such an individual could have been granted the status of Master. 

His relief was palpable when the captain explained that Tarin intervened and followed through with his execution after finding ample evidence of his betrayal. 

Curiously though, Anakin’s Captain seemed to be withholding details from his recount. 

It might have had something to do with the fact that the men were radiating concern so strongly for Tarin that Obi-Wan would have had to go out of his way not to notice it. Which begged the question of why they were so fiercely devoted to her. If Rex was to be believed — and Obi-Wan certainly believed that aspect of the captain's story, considering that Waxer, Trapper, Kix, and Fives all confirmed as much — then the men had spent barely a day in her presence, and they were worried for her as if she was one of their own. 

Obi-Wan knew that he treated his men better than most of his fellow Jedi, it was a goal he had sought to maintain when he discovered how fond he was of the men and their camaraderie. He had built a strong relationship with Cody, who he quickly came to consider a close friend. 

He joked along with them and went out of his way to make sure all of them were fed and well rested, tended to and cared for as human beings should be. His aversion to medbays helped him — in a convoluted sort of way — to make sure that the men were all treated before him, and before the 212th’s CMO, Patch, could find him and sedate him so that he might sit still for more than three seconds. 

But he had never felt the kind of friendship that now flowed between Tarin and the men, and she was  _ kriffing  _ unconscious. Something had to have happened for her to gain their loyalty in such an infinitesimal amount of time. 

He would not discredit her for taking action against Krell and saving possibly hundreds of lives, but surely that alone wouldn’t create familial-esque ties with the  _ Vode _ . 

Obi-Wan noticed the curious looks that all of the men shot him while they waited for an answer. They were all turned in his direction with their attention on him. The midichlorian test result had been one thing he was caught on when every man present saw his visible shock. It was either tell the truth and have to elaborate, or lie to their faces. So he opted for the former. 

After all, he would have been lying to his highest ranking officer and his Padawan’s highest ranking officer, in front of a medic who already knew the truth, at that. 

“Midichlorians are a microscopic life form that serve as organelles within the cells of all living things. The Jedi Order measures them in amount per cell in order to gauge whether or not an individual may be admitted into the Order for training. The higher the amount, the stronger the individual's ability in the Force.” He paused. “That’s not to say that hard work and dedication can’t make a Force user with a low count just as strong as someone with a high count who trains very little.” 

All of the men nodded in understanding as Obi-Wan continued. “Essentially, a person with a very high midichlorian count may find it easier to grasp concepts of their training and progress beyond those concepts due to their sheer power in the Force.” 

Obi-Wan gestured to Rex. “Over a decade ago, Anakin Skywalker was discovered to have the highest midichlorian count ever recorded, even higher than Grandmaster Yoda’s.” 

The men’s eyes widened at that fact. The little green Jedi General who looked ancient and spoke strangely was somewhat of a legend amongst the  _ Vode _ . 

“What was his count Sir?” Trapper asked, earning him a slap from Waxer. Obi-Wan chuckled. 

“Well I suppose I could reveal that to you, considering that we are all very much aware of our unconscious friends' prowess,” he mused as he gestured vaguely to Tarin’s sleeping form. “General Skywalker had a confirmed count of twenty thousand.” 

Fives whistled in amazement, but it was stopped abruptly as Rex made a choked off noise that was uncharacteristic of the usually composed captain. “But Sir, Gene— Tarin’s count was  _ thirty-seven _ thousand.” 

Trapper caught on to Rex’s train of thought. “Which would mean—“ 

“That Tarin has the highest number of midichlorians in recorded history, seventeen thousand more than Anakin’s,” Obi-Wan finished. 

“ _ Kriffing hell, _ ” someone muttered. 

“Indeed,” Obi-Wan replied. A visible twitch from Tarin’s previously unmoving figure caused everyone to snap their attention toward her. For a moment, no one moved, their focus fixated on the sleeping figure. Kix was about to say something regarding the possibility of a benign tremor, but was stopped as Tarin shot to her feet in a flash. 

The young woman’s eyes scanned the surrounding men, the nearest of which had stepped back to provide her room. Obi-Wan noticed, absentmindedly, that he had stood up and moved closer. 

Her attention snapped toward him and she met his eyes with a piercing gaze that sent shivers down his spine. Her breathing was erratic. She seemed to heave and gasp for breath desperately as her hands twitched with the apparent need to take action. Obi-Wan recognized it, as did the men. It was the same battle-ready instinct they had all crafted, but tighter, more lethal. Her entire being was coiled and poised to strike, but she didn’t have the look of a cornered animal that was characteristic of individuals who had abruptly woken from a slumbering state. 

It was quite the opposite, in fact. She looked like a lethal predator who was perfectly confident that she could kill everyone in the room. 

It was terrifying. 

Tarin appeared to be briefly unaware of her surroundings and any sudden movement might cause her to lash out. Obi-Wan felt inexplicably compelled to speak to her. He dared not interact through the fledgling bond they had unintentionally established. 

“Tarin?” 

That seemed to ground her focus a little bit, but not entirely. She looked at him with the same emotion in her eyes from the night they first encountered each other. It was almost overwhelming, the bombardment of feeling that exploded from her the moment she heard her name, before she slammed her shields shut. 

She controlled her breathing until it repeated comfortably, screwing her eyes shut in the process. When she opened them, it was as if the air between them had caught fire. It burned with conviction, purpose so raw that it almost felt like a physical blow to Obi-Wan’s mind. 

“I’m going to ask you a question and I need everyone else in the room to confirm your answer. Okay?” 

“Okay,” Obi-Wan said softly, trying his hardest to convey warmth and welcome understanding. “We can do that.” 

Tarin cleared her throat. “What year is it?” 

“980 ARR.”

At that, Tarin’s eyes grew wider than Obi-Wan thought possible. She schooled her gaze to the men nearby who answered with the same response. She looked down at the floor in contemplation. 

“That is— that’s not possible. That— I was— No. No you’re gone, everyone is  _ gone! _ ” she yelled. “It’s not possible,” she said to herself over and over, her focus lost as she paced back and forth. 

If anyone in the room beside her understood what she was protesting, none of them showed any signs of it. Obi-Wan decided to intervene before she could talk herself into the ground until she fainted again. 

Rex beat her to it. “ _ Mand’alor, udesii. _ ”

Obi-Wan stopped in place, his mind whirling. Now this woman who was quite possibly his daughter was also the sole ruler of the Mandalorian people? Luckily that question didn’t need to be answered by anyone in the verbal sense as Rex reached into a compartment under the bunk and pulled out a lightsaber that Obi-Wan was very familiar with. 

In his tutelage under Qui-Gon, he had spent a year on Mandalore protecting the young pacifist Duchess from both sides of a raging civil war, and some bounty hunters tossed in for good measure. During that time, Satine had explained to him many facets of Mandalorian culture and legend. He knew  _ exactly  _ what kind of status possessing Tarre Vizsla’s lightsaber granted. 

And apparently, so did the  _ Vode _ . 

Tarin looked at Rex in appreciation. She was a paragon of ataraxia that was completely different from the sputtering mess she had been only seconds prior. “ _ Vore alor’ad. _ ” 

She clipped the saber to her belt and looked up at Obi-Wan. If it was even possible, her gaze was more intense than it had been initially. It raged with so many indescribable emotions, like a tempest of untamed feelings. 

She waved a hand next to her absentmindedly. It was a use of the Force that he was unfamiliar with. “What did you do?” 

“I turned off all of the audio devices in and around this room; cameras, mics, your commlinks, the  _ Vode’s  _ helmet cams and input devices,” she shrugged. 

Obi-Wan felt an eerie sense of foreboding settle in the room. “And why would you do that?” he scratched out. 

None of them were prepared for what she said next. 

“Because in two years, Chancellor Palpatine, the Sith Lord Darth Sidious, is going to execute a contingency order programmed into the inhibitor chips that are in the heads of every Clone in the GAR. All four hundred million men will have their free will wiped clean from their minds and will swiftly execute the Jedi Knights, who have been labeled as traitors to the Republic.” 

The shock in the room elevated to an overwhelming degree, followed quickly by sickening horror and disbelief. But she wasn’t finished. 

“Anakin Skywalker is going to fall to the Dark side and pledge his allegiance as a Sith Apprentice. He will lead an attack on the Jedi temple with his Clone legion in tow and leave no survivors. This entire war is a lie, masterminded by Sidious to pave the way for a cruel regime. The Jedi Order is destroyed and the Republic falls in a matter of hours. In its wake, an Empire rises that will subjugate the galaxy with fear, militaristic authoritarianism, rampant speciesism, and atrocities that don’t even have names yet, for the next two decades.” 

“So,” she ground out, “If you don’t want that to happen, you’ll listen to what I have to say.” 

Silence. 

“That's— you’re lying,” Obi-Wan managed to choke out. The Force was screaming at him to believe her, that she spoke nothing but the truth. But he didn’t want to accept that such things were possible, that a defeat as grand as what she described came to pass, that such a bleak future was possible. 

The denial was thick, but the Force screamed louder as some of the pieces fell into place. The Clones’ mysterious origins that went magically uninvestigated as the galaxy fell into war. The way that no matter how much ground the Republic gained, the Separatists would return their advances and victories in equal measure. 

And Anakin…  _ Anakin.  _

Obi-Wan knew that their relationship was becoming increasingly strained for years now. His former Padawan never confided in him the way he did Palpatine — a fact that now, in light of recent revelations, made him feel like he was going to throw up until he couldn’t breath — but now he was growing significantly more distant. 

Anakin had become reserved in a way that he had never been before, even talking to the Chancellor more than his fellow Jedi. Each time he came back from those meetings it seemed as if he was more confident in Palpatine's leadership and more suspicious of everyone around him, Obi-Wan specifically. 

He wanted to scream in protest that Anakin could fall that far, that the Order and the Republic could be cast aside in one fell swoop. But somehow, someway, a living testament to the validity of that very idea was standing in front of him, confirming just how awful the galaxy would become. 

A staggering wave of anger slammed into him, snapping him out of such dark thoughts. It scrapped against his shields and rammed into his conscience, blanketing the entire room. And that’s when Obi-Wan realized that it was coming from Tarin and simultaneously gulped as he remembered what he had responded with. 

“Lying?  _ Lying?! _ ” she roared. 

“No! You know nothing,  _ nothing, _ ” she spat. “I have watched as populations were enslaved, children taken from families to be indoctrinated into a tyrannical machine, their parents tossed into mass graves and left to rot. I know what it’s like to feel the Force cry out in  _ indescribable _ agony when hundreds of billions of souls die in a single second as a superweapon destroys an entire planet. 

“Ive been held captive by the  _ abomination  _ that your apprentice became,” she pointed at Obi-Wan, daring him to speak over her, “and because of it I am  _ intimately  _ familiar with what it’s like to be tortured to the point in which your life hangs on by a thread, only to be brought back and have it done over and over again until the only thing you can do is desperately beg the Force for death. I have felt lightning rake through my entire body multiple hours a day, every day, for a  _ year _ , so  _ do not  _ tell me that I don’t speak the truth!” 

It felt like it should have been physically impossible for Tarin to continue to say things that increased in the horror that they contained each time she spoke, but she had done just that. 

Cody let out a shaky noise of distress that sliced through the deathly silence in the room. “We— we kill the Jedi?” His tone was horrified and it portrayed in words what everyone else was feeling. At least they seemed to believe her. 

Tarin’s intensity lessened at that. She had dealt with hundreds of  _ vode _ who had drowned in immense guilt after their child had been removed. She and her people devised restraining procedures after the first few troopers to undergo the surgery had stuck the nearest blaster in their mouth as soon as they realized what they had done. 

“It wasn’t of your own volition  _ vod _ .” She followed by sending soothing waves of reassurance to Cody’s mind and then did the same for all the other men. It was a technique she had learned during her early years on Mandalore, before she had even found out who she really was. 

Cody’s face went from raging denial to sorrowful defeat in an instant. He hung his lead limp as he whispered himself false reassurances. “We— we would never…” he said hoarsely. He looked back up at her. “You said chips, how di— but how do you even  _ know  _ th—“

Tarin held up a hand. “ _ Kote _ ,” she said, her voice filled with somber warmth, impossibly soft. She lifted her head to address her father and all of the men. “I’ll explain everything, but we  _ need _ a secure room and Rex,” she said to the Captain, “I need you to comm Jesse and have him meet us there.”

The captain nodded, still dazed. 

“There’s a conference room a few halls down from the medbay. I’m confident it will suffice,” Obi-Wan spoke up. 

“ _ Vor entye bu—, _ ” Tarin stopped herself before she could finish. She cleared her throat and shook her head lightly, tossing back some of her shoulder length hair. “ _ Vor entye, _ ” she repeated to Obi-Wan, this time much more gathered. 

The walk to the conference room was laden with a silence that echoed with hundreds of intermingled questions and emotions that flowed from the minds of the  _ Vode _ , as well as some that slipped past Obi-Wan’s shields. 

When they reached the room, Jesse was already waiting by the door. The tattooed trooper shot a questioning look to Rex before his eyes flickered to Tarin, filled with curiosity. He seemed to quickly pick up on how uncomfortable his brothers were, and the gaunt, blood-drained faces that Waxer and Fives were sporting didn’t do well to relieve the concern that was building in Jesse’s mind. 

They all filled in silently and sat down while Tarin checked the room for listening devices just as she had in the medbay. After deciding that the room was secured to her liking, she turned her attention to Obi-Wan and went straight to the point, one of many. 

“You tested my blood,” Tarin said to Obi-Wan. It wasn’t a question. 

He nodded after he got over his surprise. “We did.” 

Tarin mulled that over. “So you know.” 

Obi-Wan did his best to hide how the ambiguity of that statement unsettled him. “Indeed. You have quite the midichlorian count.” 

Tarin shook her head dismissively and narrowed her eyes at him. “No, you and Kix,” she pointed to the medic, “You  _ know. _ ” The glare that followed was a piercing challenge, a bold request that he deny her. 

“Yes. Although I am not quite sure  _ how _ .” 

The confusion from the other men was palpable. They were anticipating an explanation and Tarin was quickly becoming slightly irked at how her father obfuscated the truth. The man was a master of answering without  _ really  _ answering. 

“What exactly do you ‘know,’ Sir?” Rex asked. Tarin bit her cheek and sighed. She took one more look at her father before speaking to the men. “Do you trust me,  _ alor’ad, Vode? _ ”

Cody and Jesse were still visibly unsure of what was going on, but Rex, having no such reservations, nodded with resolve, along with Waxer, Trapper, Fives, and Kix. 

Tarin took a breath in and prepared herself for the momentous claim she was about to make. And then she spoke. 

“My name is Tarin  _ Kenobi, _ and I’m from nineteen years in the future.” 

For a while, no one said anything, the feeling of shock that they were all becoming acquainted with rang out once more. Cody was the first to speak. “The future?” he sputtered in disbelief. Tarin nodded. 

It was a warranted reaction. All of the Clones could quickly deduce that Tarin’s age relative to Obi-Wan as a parent, and her extensive knowledge of what she claimed to be events to come didn’t have too much merit. 

On the other hand, the  _ Vode,  _ the 212th and 501st specifically, had come into contact multiple times with the weird things that the Force threw at each of their Generals. The two men seemed to be magnets for bizarre situations. So maybe this could fall under that category of Force-induced craziness. 

Still, a Mandalorian warrior from almost two decades in the future, who, if her namesake was to be believed, was General Kenobi’s daughter, was hard to digest. That fact alone lent no credence to her claims, because the men knew that ‘attachment’ was strictly forbidden for a Jedi — and in their eyes, Obi-Wan was the paragon of what a Jedi should be. If anyone was going to break the mystical Order’s code, General Kenobi would have been the last person they expected to. 

His padawan was definitely the first. 

General Skywalker’s ‘secret’ relationship with the senator of Naboo had birthed a betting pool amongst the men that had been running since the beginning of the war. But now, knowing a little of what Skywalker could become, what he presumably  _ had _ become, the men weren’t so sure how they felt about being around the younger Knight. 

“You know, you can ask me?” Tarin said to Obi-Wan. She had been waiting for someone to bombard her with questions about her alleged last name and when they didn’t burst out in amazement at that in particular, it was slightly surprising to her. 

Obi-Wan for his part, looked utterly nonplussed.  _ Time travel? _ Revealing to multiple men that she was related to him in some way? The implications of the first brought forth a flurry of questions to his mind, but the second was what he was primarily focused on. 

Something inside of him that he couldn’t quite place felt endeared to the girl. It was an inkling of the desire to know her, to speak with his  _ child,  _ a person who was essentially a living, breathing extension of him. 

Adherence to the Jedi Code aside, Obi-Wan wanted to share his experiences with Tarin. He ached for what she claimed to have been through and the very visible pain that it caused her. He wondered absentmindedly how Siri would react. 

Oh.  _ Siri.  _

To say that the gorgeous, feisty blond was a painful subject would be an insulting understatement. Obi-Wan had loved Siri for years and the feelings were reciprocated in full. They had ultimately made the difficult decision to set their feelings for each other aside and prioritize their duty. The responsibilities they held as Jedi were simply too important to be ignored. 

It didn’t dull the pain any less and their relationship had certainly suffered for it. Siri and Obi-Wan had drifted apart after that fateful decision, which was healthier for their relationship in the long run, but in a twisted sort of sense. The nuances that accompanied their status as Jedi only served to make separation that much more difficult. 

And now they had a child. 

From the future. 

How in the world was Obi-Wan going to explain this to Siri. How would she react? Would she find herself ignited with that same spontaneous desire to care for the girl, to just know her? The questions gave him pause, but deep within himself he felt the slightest spark of hope that maybe he could rectify his relationship with the woman he used to love and still  _ did  _ love. All of his reservations about pursuing a long-term romantic relationship despite his lifestyle strictly prohibiting such things were wiped clean at the sight of the woman before him. It felt amazing — and terrifying. 

The men looked at Obi-Wan expectantly, especially Cody. “Are you my daughter?” 

Tarin nodded. “I am. The DNA test confirms as much.” 

It felt like his breath was knocked out. There it was, out in the air, confirmed by the very person in question. The need to sweep her up and tend to her burned slightly brighter. The flames licked at the barrier that a lifetime of Jedi philosophy had constructed around his heart. “How?” he breathed, in awestruck wonder. 

Tarin gave him a faint smile, clipped and full of unreleased grief that swirled in tandem with so many other things that she wanted to say. “Well I must say that I don’t believe my conception has occurred in this timeline yet.” 

Obi-Wan wasn’t exactly sure what to say. What  _ could  _ he say? The entire situation before him was beyond surreal. “Oh,” he finally managed. “How are you, well…  _ here? _ ” 

“I don't know. One moment I was about to—” she stopped abruptly and snapped her mouth shut. What had she been about to say and why had she stopped from voicing it so vehemently? “One moment I was in Keldabe and the next, I was in a ditch on Umbara surrounded by your men,” she said, gesturing to Obi-Wan, “men that I only knew of because of stories that you told me and shared memory meditations that we did together.” Tarin sighed once more. She put her hands on her hips and looked up at the ceiling in hopeless frustration. “The only thing I’m sure of is that this has something to do with the Force.” 

Surprisingly, Rex was the one to speak next. “Do you have any idea  _ why? _ ” 

Tarin’s face adopted a distant look and she went deathly silent. Her eyes were distant and filled with something that seemed like hope. She turned back to the men. “Well my first thought was to change things,  _ prevent  _ things. Because where I came from, my present and your future, it was bad, so bad,” she said quietly. 

She screwed her eyes shut and fought to keep the maelstrom of conflicting emotions from unleashing itself. “It was a nightmare,” she said without opening her eyes. A single tear escaped her eyes and slid slowly down her cheek. Her breath shuddered unstably. “But if there’s any chance to stop it, any chance at all, I want to take it.” 

It was an unspoken promise that she would do what was necessary with or without them, but that they were certainly welcome to assist. 

“I’ll help you,” Cody said, surprising everyone in the room. He looked to his brothers with growing confidence. “ _ We’ll  _ help you.” Tarin felt a spark growing in the room, an exiguous sense of hope and conviction. She turned to her father, as did the  _ Vode.  _ It would be a decision that she assumed would be integral in shaping how their relationship would develop. It was nerve-wracking. 

Obi-Wan sat up in his seat confidently, looking exactly like the Jedi Master he was. “I think you should start from the beginning.” 

Tarin’s eyes flashed briefly with happiness and relief before she nodded seriously, posture full of resolve. Then, she sat down and began to tell everyone present a story of tragedy.    
  


* * *

In her short young life, Tarin Kenobi had quickly grown accustomed to making tough decisions, doing difficult things that many others would find far beyond questionable in pursuit of victory and her peoples’ best interests. 

Watching the faces of her father and the  _ Vode  _ contort in abject horror and feeling their collective misery in the Force as she painstakingly explained the events of the fall of the Republic and subsequent rise of the Empire might have been one of the hardest things she had ever done. 

Having held all of the cards, she made sure to omit certain details as she saw fit. Whether or not she would explain later or keep them to herself entirely, remained her decision. 

Actually organizing and putting voice to the story of the galaxy she grew up in provided her a unique perspective on how truly  _ horrible  _ it was. The vestiges of the fallen Republic and it’s Jedi allies had essentially been devoured by the Empire in efficient, brutal succession. 

When she had finished raking through her brain enough to confirm that she had laid bare every necessary detail, a silence like no other had encompassed the room. 

After swearing to secrecy and deciding that everyone should individually have their own time to process the revelations, they had dismissed themselves from the conference room and gone back to their regular duties. The choice was one that was made in collective agreement. 

Even Tarin, who had  _ lived  _ through the events she described, wasn’t exactly sure if she could stomach any more discussion in that moment. 

The next issue, acquiring a suitable temporary living space for Tarin to sleep in during the next day of hyperspace travel before they reached Coruscant, had solved itself rather quickly. Much to her surprise, Obi-Wan had swiftly offered to lend her the spare bunk in his quarters. It was done partially with the underlying intention of asking her more questions. 

They were family after all. 

She just didn’t want to give herself false hope. The Obi-Wan that she knew from her time had been a sorrowful, broken man when Fulcrum had first led Tarin to his pitiful remote hut on the dustball Outer Rim planet. He was grieving the loss of everything he held dear, spending an unhealthy amount of time deep within the confines of his own mind, frantically scouring over what went wrong and eventually spiraling into despair and exhaustion, just to wake up and repeat the process once more. 

He was living solely for Luke Skywalker, and not himself. 

This Obi-Wan was different and although he still bore the weight of his position and the constant stress of warfare, he was so much lighter than the wrinkled, greying man she had last seen on Tatooine. It was so tempting to reach out and feel him in the Force, that familiar light she had grown to love in her own way. She wanted nothing more than to wrap him in a crushing embrace and never let go, or grab his tunics and allow herself to weep as she never had before, to mourn the childhood she was robbed of and the parents she never truly knew. 

Obi-Wan's quarters were quaint, for a High General. The fluorescent white of the overhead lighting filled the room and accentuated the military plainness of the durasteel walls. A small grey desk with a matching chair sat comfortably at the back of the first small space. On it lay a stack of neatly arranged datapads. A standard bunk was bolted to the adjacent wall and an extra chair was close by. 

Tarin followed Obi-Wan in after realizing that she had frozen in the doorway. He pulled the chair out from behind the desk and sat across from her as he gestured for her to take the unclaimed seat. 

“I imagine you have more questions,” Tarin said, doing her best to refrain from reaching for a few strands of her hair to twiddle nervously. 

“I do,” Obi-Wan said, stroking his beard. “Anakin's fall, the Clones, Sidious and Dooku, in particular, are things I’d like to get to.” He trailed off and Tarin raised a brow inquisitively. 

“But?” she asked. 

His responding smile made her ache to be close with him like she had when she first flung herself into his shocked arms. She was having a hard time dealing without the amount of emotional pain that consistently shadowed her while she spent time only feet away from her father figure, who was  _ alive  _ and  _ real.  _ “But,” he picked up, “I would like you to know that as my child, I would endeavor to know you, if you’ll allow me to.” 

Surprise hit her in full force before it was replaced by the same spark of hope from earlier. “Dad I— Sorry,  _ Obi-Wan _ I do—“ 

He held up a hand and Tarin waited to be reprimanded slightly on using the title so freely, but was shocked by what he had to say. “If it makes you feel more comfortable, you may call me that,” he reassured. 

Tarin felt tears build, she had wanted this for so long, but never expected to actually receive a chance to make amends. She had departed Tatooine on unsteady terms after an explosive end to an argument they had many times before. Tarin understood in part his position as a distant guardian for the Skywalker boy, but his insistence that he stay on the planet constantly instead of leave to start anew with his own flesh and blood had cut deep. 

She had dealt with rejection and loss before; she didn’t even know what her mother’s name was or what she looked like until she was nearly a legal adult. Even then, the memories of Jedi Knight Siri Tachi hadn’t even been her own. That same abandonment, combined with Obi-Wan’s knowledge, had been integral in helping her efforts to put the pieces of her early existence together. 

The running theory was that her mother had given her to Duchess Satine at a very young age under the false assumption that the Mandalorian woman had been Obi-Wan’s lover, and thus, would love any child of his as her own. According to him, he and Duchess Kryze had only ever been friends, but that didn’t take away credence from the spiderweb theory Tarin had put together. At the center of it, there was always loss. 

Apparently the tears had escaped and were begging to slowly fall, because the touch of her fathers thumb on her cheek was met with wetness that was wiped away. Falling apart was so incredibly alien to her. Tarin had lived her life wielding the dark while also constantly keeping it at bay so that it didn’t fully overtake her. She tapped into the power that it provided without allowing it to do the same in turn and make her it’s own tool. Her restraint was remarkable. 

Additionally, as  _ Mand’alor,  _ she stood as a beacon of hope, strength, and ferocity for her people. What that entailed, aside from being the best of the best as warriors go, was crafting herself into an immovable figure. In public, Tarin’s face was carved perpetually with an expression that was a mixture of stoic serenity and deathly seriousness. 

But the tears kept coming. A sob escaped her lips as his finger brushed away another. She felt a hand on her shoulder, guiding her to sit down on the bed next to him. Strong arms enveloped her once more and she buried her face in his robes and dropped all restraints that she had on her emotions as she cried openly. 

It was freeing in a way that she had never felt before. Perhaps because she had never felt paternal love in this sense. The desert hermit simply couldn’t provide it in his state. After what seemed like hours, she stopped crying. She made no effort to pull away but looked up at him slightly. 

Admissions hurt. She was used to closing herself off from everyone else, from anything except the Force. Confessing required a measure of vulnerability that she simply lacked. It was arming someone else, in a way; giving them the power to hurt you through the reception of your own words and eventually, their response. 

But she spoke anyway. “I missed you,” she said, looking into his blue eyes, “so much.” 

He smiled back and hugged her tighter. He brought a hand up and cupped the back of her head as he pulled her gently toward his chest. She melted into the touch and her face rested on his robes. “I’m here now,” he mumbled as he placed his chin on top of her head. He ran a hand through her hair soothingly as her body gradually began to shake less and less until her breath had steadied. “Do you know we are Force-bonded?” 

“ _ Elek,  _ I felt it too,” she replied. “A similar bond formed when I first met you on Tatooine.” 

Obi-Wan startled and she looked up at him in concern. That was when he realized that her eyes looked just like Siri’s. They were the same icy blue that had always ensnared him, and he was looking at them in the face of a young woman who was a combination of himself and the woman he loved, entirely different, yet still a part of him. 

“What were you doing on Tatooine? What was  _ I doing  _ on Tatooine?” he said as he choked the sentimentality of his own thoughts. 

Tarin thought of Luke and how her father had been convinced that one day he and his sister would prove to be the galaxy's last hope. She hadn’t harbored any resentment for Vader’s son who also happened to be her own age, but she did think that putting that much trust in one farm boy from nowhere was a bad idea with unrealistic expectations. “You were in exile, hiding from the Empire while watching over someone important.” 

“Who?” Obi-Wan asked quizzically. 

She grinned up at him as she visualized his reaction. It was the best she could do to find some sort of humorous reprieve while discussing the topic at hand. “Luke Skywalker.” 

The reaction was as she expected. His eyes widened in surprise. “Skywalker? As in, Anakin’s  _ son? _ ” 

Another nod. “He and Padme have been married since after the First Battle of Geonosis.” Tarin knew what to expect from that revelation so when his surprise wasn’t exactly a palpable burst she was ready for it. He had told her once that he always suspected that his Padawan had harbored an attachment for the Senator of Naboo. He just hadn’t become aware that they were married until it was too late and the circumstances were less than ideal for such a revelation to be calmly received and discussed further. 

The sorrow he felt at realizing that Anakin had chosen not to trust him with the secret of his relationship was something that Tarin would never forget. He hummed noncommittally. “I always suspected that they were involved somehow. But marriage? Interesting.” 

Case in point. 

She had withheld many of the Jedi related details from the  _ Vode  _ when they all had spoken. It wasn’t due to a lack of trust. Rather, she hadn’t seen those elements as prevalent revelations to the Clones. So she decided to reserve them for when her father would undoubtedly ask for more personal details, as he was doing so now. 

It was with that in mind that she began the tale of Obi-Wan’s actions during the days following Order 66. She watched as his face grew increasingly sorrowful as she detailed returning to the temple with Grandmaster Yoda, following Padme to Mustafar and confronting Anakin which lead to what he assumed at the time was his death, Luke and Leia’s birth and Padme’s subsequent death, and finally, the start of his exile on Tatooine. 

The questions were even harder for him to choke out, each one hoarse and with an underlying tone of reluctance, but he powered through and somehow managed to stomach each answer she provided. It was something she had admired about him from the moment they met, he was resilient beyond belief and kept himself rooted in the light even at his darkest moments. 

By the time she finished, both of them looked like they were on the verge of tears. She knew that the short span of time in which the Republic fell and the Jedi were destroyed had almost completely overwhelmed Obi-Wan, and that the protection of Luke Skywalker was perhaps the only thing that kept him from drowning in the grief that his brother’s betrayal had caused. 

There were times where she mourned for the innocence that her father had lost so early on in life. She desperately wanted him to see somehow that many, if not all of the tragedies throughout his life were not his fault. He was thoroughly adept at shouldering guilt that wasn’t his to bear at all. He may have been a figure of status at one point, but throughout his prime he was still constantly a man of low self-esteem. 

It was one of the reasons why revealing the horrors she had just spoken of had scared her; she didn’t want him to instantly revert to his default setting of viewing himself as the sole figure at fault. After what felt like hours of questions and answers, Obi-Wan finally loosened his hold on his daughter. 

Tarin felt the bed shift and she had to admit that she was slightly upset at the loss of contact, but it was quickly returned as Obi-Wan grabbed her hands with his own and stared at her. She shifted under his gaze, wondering what he was going to say. “You said Anakin did things to you.” She nodded, and moved to interrupt him before he could continue with that line of discussion. 

“ _ Bui— _ ” A squeeze of her hands once more interrupted her in stride. 

“I am not saying that it's something that we need to discuss at this moment, or at all; but if you do ever desire to talk about it, I will listen.” His hand reached out once more to wipe away the tears that followed that statement. He pushed stray hairs out of her face and tucked them behind her ear. 

“ _ Vor entye.  _ I don’t think I’m ready for that just yet. However there is a… preface, of sorts” She took a deep breath. “There are things you’ll need to know to truly  _ understand _ .” Obi-Wan nodded in acknowledgement and smiled softly, it didn’t reach his eyes.

What she was going to say would be difficult for him to hear, incredibly difficult. It had the potential to change his perception of his Padawan for the worst despite the events she experienced not even having come to pass in their current time, and what she shared only moments prior had obviously dealt enough pain to him already. 

“After Mustafar,” she started, “I think Vader's hatred became dichotomous. Although he kept the fact tucked away in the deepest recesses of his mind, I think the overwhelming majority of his loathing was directed at himself.” It made sense, Vader had burned down everything he loved and was left as nothing but a barely-human husk of vituperative, cold rage. 

“The second object of his anger though, was you,” she pointed to Obi-Wan. “The dark contorts everything, makes you feel faultless. If you do manage to find a shred of remorse, it converts that into a bitterness that you can just transform into anger and use as power.” 

It was one of the brutal realities of giving yourself over entirely; darksiders were slaves who thought themselves gods, blinded by the easily obtainable power that falling provided.

“So all of the blame that didn’t fester and grow in Vader to eventually be wielded, it was directed at the man who was supposedly the real one at fault, Kenobi. The only problem was that you were hidden away from the Empire, so it lived inside Vader all those years that you eluded him.” 

Obi-Wan caught on instantly and his eyes widened in horror. “So when he captured my child…” he whispered in a sick-sounding tone.

“I became an outlet for what he couldn’t unleash upon you,” Tarin finished, quietly nodding. 

She scoffed bitterly, breaking the uneasy silence that had followed, “And what better way to tarnish the legacy of General Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master and High Council Member, then by turning his daughter into the very thing he spent his prime years fighting to destroy. Push his last living remnant to become what was anathema to him.” 

She looked up and into her fathers eyes, blue orbs obscured by copper locks containing unfathomable pain. “He didn’t have his children, so you wouldn’t have yours.” 

“Oh Tarin…” her father said, enveloping her in a hug once more as tears began to flow. 

Now came the hard part. She just desperately hoped that he would look past his years of Jedi training to make even the smallest attempt to see her reasoning. Her hands gripped his robes in bunches until her knuckles were white and raw. “Dad I  _ need  _ you to understand. I  _ hate  _ him,” she said hoarsely. “I know I’ll have to see him and I know he’s not the same as the Anakin Skywalker I know, but I don’t think I can ever separate the two of them. I can’t  _ let go _ .” 

She started to sob. “I know he’s your brother and I know you love him, so I won’t be upset with you. I promise.” She took a moment to pull herself together. “But I hold so much resentment for him and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to part with it. You don’t understand what it was li—“ 

Obi-Wan hushed her and stroked her hair. “We’ll get through this together, I promise.” He tilted her chin up so that she was forced to look at him. He peered into the eyes of his daughter, aching at how unsure she looked, how he had the ability to break her and she seemed so  _ used  _ to being broken. “I will never cast you aside, Tarin.” 

Something like relief flashed in her gaze, and she nodded as she pursed her lips and wiped a falling tear away. “Okay,” she said quietly. The tiny nods became briefly fervent, as if she was willing herself to believe. “Okay,” she repeated.

The remainder of their time was spent embracing each other in the silence, listening to the inner workings of the ship and basking in the shared presence. The serene companionship was broken by an alert on Obi-Wan’s comm. 

He let Tarin out of his arms and pressed a button on his bracer, which made Tarin realize that they were both still fully geared up. Commander Cody’s voice spoke over the link. 

_ “The Council is hailing you on the bridge, General.”  _

Obi-Wan looked to her apologetically. “Copy that Cody, I’ll be on my way,” he said, which was followed by a curt acknowledgement from the Commander right before the connection blipped out. 

Tarin shook her head at Obi-Wan as he was about to apologize. “It’s okay. We’ve been here for hours and you have responsibilities.” She shrugged. “Besides, I still have to get around to talking to the  _ Vode. _ ” 

At that he looked relieved, which turned into a questioning grin. “Yes, what exactly  _ did  _ you do to earn their favor?” 

“I adopted them,” she said casually as she stood to leave the room. 

Obi-Wan managed to look utterly nonplussed as he digested the gravity of her response. When he noticed the knowing smirk plastered on Tarin’s face he brought himself from his surprised state, grinned as he shook his head in amused bewilderment, and followed her out. 

* * *

“She adopted us?” Cody said in astonishment, staring at Waxer disbelievingly as the revelation flowed through his mind on repeat. He had found himself almost constantly dumbfounded during his  _ vode’s  _ recounting of how they met Tarin, but after finally processing all of the information that was given to him, he ultimately focused back on the family aspect. 

The missing pieces clicked it to place and formed an explanation for the five men’s seemingly abrupt, fierce loyalty to the new Jedi. If the look on Jesse’s face was any evidence, then he was beginning to adopt similar sentiments as well. Cody however, was still feeling highly indecisive about the whole ordeal. 

To say he liked General Kenobi would have been an understatement and Cody didn’t plan on leaving the man anytime soon. However, remaining under command of a man who treated them as men was quickly bordering on equally as enticing as the prospect of being accepted as actual human beings; Mandalorians, at that, just like their heritage. 

Waxer nodded. He was doing his best to look composed but his eyes betrayed a hint of excitement. Cody wanted to be able to share in his brothers’ opinions on the situation, but the ability that he had crafted as the Marshal Commander to pull himself back until his perspective was impartial to all parties so as to have the most solid deduction possible prevented him from leaping into treason wholeheartedly. 

He did know that if he was going to go along with this plan, he would need to speak to Tarin first. Had the General’s daughter — and oh, if that wasn’t  _ shabla  _ weird enough — even thought of the logistics behind such a promise? 

“Does she realize how many of us there actually are?” Cody asked skeptically. 

“About four hundred million, with more being produced every day, if my estimates are correct,” said a familiar feminine voice. 

Cody spun around to see the person in question approaching with a cheeky smile on her face. He cursed at himself softly for briefly getting caught up in how attractive the young woman was. The way her hips swayed lightly in tandem with her confident stride was intoxicating. Such things should have been beneath him before, and now to top it all off she was his superior’s  _ child. _ That definitely wouldn’t go over well.

Tarin made her way across the empty mess to their secluded table. She greeted all of them by name with a bright smile and plopped down in between Rex and Waxer. “Our family is going to be quite big,” she said, grinning. Her icy blue eyes twinkled with mischievous amusement.  _ Kriff,  _ everything about her was beautiful. 

Cody was fucked. 

It was such an easy response, casually tossed out as if she wasn’t promising a home to an entire army. But somehow, Cody knew that she meant it. “What about General Kenobi?, Skywalker?” 

Tarin’s face darkened menacingly at the mention of the younger Jedi, an expression that Cody understood much more in depth now. It was a look of pure resentment, the likes of which he had never seen. As soon as it appeared, it was gone, and her furrowed brow had departed as well. “ _ Buir  _ will most likely be on board,” she mused. “I can convince him of the failings of the Council and their willingness to use slave labor as a military tactic.”

Cody bristled at that and frowned for her to see. “We’re not sla—“ 

“She’s right  _ ori’vod, _ ” Rex cut in, startling him. As he looked at his  _ vod’ika  _ he noticed similar expressions on the faces of the other men. Save for Jesse — who seemed to be quietly attentive, formulating an opinion based on what he was hearing — they looked as though they were in complete agreement. 

“ _ Kote _ ,” Rex said, breaking him out of his observation, “we shouldn’t have to settle. General Kenobi is great, I care about him too and I’m beyond thankful for his treatment of us,” the captain soothed. “But we’re sentient beings, just like she said, and we shouldn’t accept the bare minimum. This is wrong and we know it  _ ori’vod _ . Our existence is  _ wrong _ , but the fact is that we’re here now and we should be using that time to make our own choices, not marching more brothers to their deaths.” 

Cody tried in vain to swallow the lump that had built in his throat. Rex was right, not only could they have more now that Tarin was there, they deserved it all along. Sadly, some of the  _ Vode  _ had given in to accepting that they were just numbers, bred to be easily replaced,  _ expendable _ . 

He would have been lying to himself if he claimed that the thought had never crossed his mind. It was actually something he found himself pondering on more occasions than he cared to admit. The main issue was that they never had a leader who was considered a sentient being themselves. 

It was painful to admit because General Kenobi had been so incredibly kind to them, but Cody knew in his heart that the man would never go out of his way to fight for their right to desert and make an actual life for themselves. That realization added on to the already-present weight of all the hurt that recent revelations had caused. 

Then, Tarin had shown up out of blue on Umbara and quickly began uprooting short perceptions and replacing them with hope. 

“He’s right  _ al’verde,  _ you deserve the right to make your own choices.” She sat up, a convicted fire burning low and purposefully in her eyes. In that moment, Cody thought that she truly looked every ounce of the  _ Mand’alor  _ that she was. 

Her gaze swept in acknowledgement to the gathered  _ vode _ . “The moment a government that swears its aversion to slavery uses the very same thing as a means for warfare is just one of many moments where they lose their way a little more. The same thing can be said for a religion that claims to hold paramount the sanctity of sentient life. Case in point, the Jedi Order. 

“I never thought about it like that,” Cody said, slowly coming to terms with it. 

Tarin smiled at him, a sad expression that didn’t reach her eyes. “Sidious didn’t want you to.” 

“Oh  _ kriff,  _ the Chancellor,” Fives said, which Tarin instantly realized was ironic as she recalled Rex’s tales of Fives’ discovery during the waning year of the war. It was a tragedy that the captain had pondered on for too many nights and she knew that the constant feeling of ‘what if?’ ate away at him. 

“Let’s keep quiet on that detail in specific.” All of the men nodded in agreement. 

Waxer was the first one to speak up. “Do you know what happened to each of us?” 

Just like that, all the blood drained from Tarin’s face. “ _ Ka’ra laam, _ ” she breathed. The actual events of Umbara had led to many significant deaths for the  _ Vode,  _ but Waxer in specific was one of the ones that hit them all hardest. She looked at Waxer, her eyes full of pain. “Umbara… you died.” 

Waxer’s eyes widened and Tarin vaguely heard the men release a litany of swear words. “Krell?” he managed to choke out. She wished she could confirm that, but the reality was worse. She shook her head, dazed. “The friendly fire that I stopped... Oh fuck. Rex  _ held _ you while you died.” 

Tarin put both of her hands on her face and ran them through her hair, blowing out a breath as the monumental surreality of the situation set in. She looked up when she felt a hand on hers and was met with Waxer’s kind expression. “It didn't happen though, thanks to you.” She nodded absentmindedly. 

“Do you know what happened to me?” Rex asked hesitantly. He meant it in the individual sense and Tarin had to respect him for putting off the inhibitor chip discussion until personal inquiries had been dealt with. 

Labeling it as happy would have been a bit of an exaggeration, but out of all of the men, Tarin was of the opinion that Rex’s story was the least tragic. She hoped he would find some comfort in her words despite the thick layer of sorrow that recently seemed to always accompany talk of the future that she came from. 

She smiled at the captain. “You were on Mandalore with Ahsoka when the Order went out,” she started, and his eyes went wide in horror. She quickly placated him with her next statement. “You didn’t go through with it. Ahsoka had your chip removed thanks to… well,” she looked at Fives, “thanks to Fives.” 

The ARC in question looked simultaneously stunned and eager to hear how his hand helped prevent even a small tragedy. “I’ll get to that in a little,” she promised, before focusing on Rex again. 

“Somewhere along the way, you and Ahsoka parted ways and you went looking for any  _ Vode _ who were still themselves. You lived with Wolffe,” a wave of shock followed that revelation, “and Gregor for years.” 

“Gregor?” Trapper inquired. 

She nodded. “A Commando Captain from the 212th,” she looked at Cody, who had perked up after hearing that. Tarin visibly wracked her brain for the memory of what the loopy old commando would be doing in this time. Her eyes lit up when she realized they could prematurely save a life. She turned to Cody, her expression intriguing all of the men as they leaned in. “He got amnesia when he crash landed on a backwater world after the battle of Sarrish. We could help him.” 

All of the men nodded excitedly and they filed that particular fact away amongst others on a list of things they could change. Tarin spoke to Rex once more. “After many years, Ahsoka and some friends,” she smiled to herself thinking of the Ghost Crew,” found you again. You joined up with the Rebellion. You’re actually kind of a mentor figure in my life,” she said sheepishly. 

“Wow,” Rex breathed, taking all of it in. “Thank you.” She dipped her head in acknowledgment. 

Explaining what happened to Fives was probably the most difficult out of all of the men because of just how close he truly came to unraveling the sinister plan. Which subsequently prompted her to explain the vision of Kix in cryosleep that the Force provided her. 

When she was finished, it looked as if the ARC Trooper could shed a tear. “ _ Vod _ ,” Tarin laughed bitterly, “If more people believed you, you could’ve saved the whole  _ shabla  _ Republic.” 

Fives nodded, dazed. “Thanks  _ vod’ika. _ ” 

Telling Jesse that he went through with the Order was hard, but she made sure to stress that he had no more choice than anyone else. She was also sad that she didn’t have more information for Trapper other than the assumption that he was swept up into the Empire’s war machine alongside Cody. 

_ Cody. _

The Commander had been a topic of many heartfelt discussions between herself and her father while on Tatooine. The older man displayed gut-wrenching grief that sent daggers into Tarin’s heart with the magnitude of emotion behind it. She wasn’t looking forward to breaking his spirit, but all the other men had their questions answered and the highest ranked one was the only individual left. 

For Cody himself, noticing that fact gave him a sickening sense of foreboding. “ _ Kote, _ ” she started, which didn’t do anything to quell his nerves, “you went through with the Order.” 

It felt like being forced to stay awake as his insides were ripped apart and rearranged, or having all the air unwillingly sucked from his lungs. Cody had shot at his General, had done the unthinkable. 

“He survived, obviously. When Rex realized we both knew you, he told me stories. He looked for you for  _ years;  _ I did too. After hearing  _ buir’s  _ stories I thought I could bring you back. You were just too far in for us to find,” she trailed off. “I’m sorry  _ al’verde,  _ I would’ve kept looki—“ she choked. The emotional reaction made her realize how much she truly wanted to know the commander. 

Tarin looked up to see him reaching across the table, one hand on her own. She grabbed it like a lifeline and squeezed, reciprocating the comfort he offered. She noticed that he had shed a few tears as well, glistening streaks that fell slowly down his face. 

Cody thought to himself that her watery gaze may have been the most hauntingly beautiful thing he had ever seen. 

Tarin hoped that what she planned to finish with would at least provide Cody with some sort of relief. “Cody, my dad loves you like his own brother. His Jedi training,” she rolled her eyes despite Cody’s stunned expression, “will prevent him from actually voicing that. But in my time, he  _ grieved  _ for you, so much. He mourned the things he never got to say. He didn’t want to impose, but he saw you as his  _ vod. _ ” She squeezed his hand once more. “I just thought you should know,” she said quietly. 

The information brought a joyous warmth to Cody’s heart, to hear that the General actively wanted to be his family. Cody had always settled for the quiet nights of companionship they shared where Obi-Wan would make tea as they both did reports together in Cody’s office. But this was beyond anything he ever wanted, to just hear it felt like enough in the moment. 

“ _ Vor entye, Mand’alor, _ ” Cody said solemnly, which made Tarin brighten. 

“ _ Ba’gedet’ye, al’verde, _ ” she said, equally as measured. 

Tarin composed herself once more and noticed that Rex had raised an eyebrow in amusement at Cody while glancing at their connected hands. She blushed and pulled back, but made sure not to do it in an abrupt manner that would have insulted the commander. 

“So the chips,” Kix said, earning an uneasy glance from everyone. 

_ Conference room,  _ Tarin signed discreetly. Everyone nodded in agreement and they made their way from the white-bathed mess hall to the quiet room where all of the recent madness had started. 

They all sat down and Tarin swept for bugs once more. She assumed that either herself or the 501st’s medic would initiate discussion but she was surprised as it was Trapper who spoke up, his tone laced with worry. 

“Were we made to kill the Jedi?” the 212th trooper asked. The question was one that she had discussed with her father on multiple occasions, yet each time they never came to a definitive answer.  _ Ka’ra  _ bless the Force for giving her the rapid-fire visions upon her return to the past though. 

“No,” she said, earning an instantaneous, overwhelming sense of relief that settled throughout all of the  _ vode _ in the room. “The Jedi that created you, Sifo Dyas, was a Seer,” she explained. “He foresaw the death that the Clone Wars would bring to the galaxy and went against the will of the Council to commission your creation. The only issue was that he was close friends with Yan Dooku of Serenno.” 

“Count Dooku,” Rex said bitterly. Tarin nodded. 

“The running theory is that Dyas didn’t find out about Dooku’s conversion to the Sith until it was too late and he was the only person Dyas confided in about the Clone Army.” 

Cody was the first to put the pieces together. “So when Dooku caught wind of it…” 

Tarin nodded. “He killed Dyas and conspired with Sidious to use you as a part of their plan.” 

The  _ Vode _ looked like they were going to be sick once more, a repeating trend that Tarin was beginning to hate, considering that she was indirectly the cause of such reactions. Kix spoke up, “So what  _ are _ the chips, and what do they do?” 

“They’re an organic device built into your genetic code. They grow inside your brains and are virtually undetectable if you don’t know what you’re looking for. The  _ Kaminiise, _ ” she spat viciously, startling the men, “said that they were to temper your aggression. But they’re not.” 

“The contingency Order,” Kix provided, earning another nod from Tarin. “In short, they're mind control devices,” she said. “As long as they’re in your heads, you won’t be able to disobey any one of the orders that the Chancellor may give.” 

“What can we even do about something like that,” Jesse practically wailed, finally breaking his long silence and interrupting Tarin before she could placate him.

Rex, who was more hopeful, spoke up. “You said Ahsoka took mine out, so it’s possible to remove them,” the captain said in a serious tone. 

“Indeed, it’s possible,” she nodded. “They can be surgically removed from your brain. The whole procedure takes about three minutes. Once we have at least one med droid that knows how to perform the surgery, we can program the others to do the same exact operation.” She turned to Kix. “We can also teach the medics how to do it so that we work faster as a whole to remove them.” 

A sense of determination and hope spread throughout the men, who shifted confidently upon hearing her words. “We’ll have to be discreet about it. We can only trust each other and we need to make sure the  _ Vode  _ know that myself and  _ bui _ — General Kenobi, are the only Jedi to be trusted with the information. If Palpatine catches wind of this, he’ll know right away that someone knows about his plan, and I can almost guarantee that the Order will follow shortly after.” 

The men sat up straighter, eyes burning with conviction. “What’s the plan Tarin?” Rex asked. 

She smirked deviously, and they got to work on outlining the logistics of performing secret brain surgery on an entire army of men. They sat there for what felt like hours, discussing ways to keep their plans discreet. They bounced ideas off of each other until all of them were mentally exhausted. By the time they were finished, they had devised a rough framework that Tarin could bring to her father for finalization. 

All of the men got up to leave but Tarin held up a hand to halt them. “One more thing,” she said, before correcting herself. “Actually two more things.” They all sat down once more. 

Tarin looked at Rex and Fives. “Echo is alive.” 

All the blood drained from Fives’ face. Rex looked like he had been hit by a speeder. “ _ What? _ ” said the ARC trooper. “How?” 

“The Separatists got him after the Citadel. They’re using him for information,” she said angrily, slamming a fist on the table that made Rex jolt up in surprise. She looked back at Fives, unapologetic for the short display of anger. “After we meet with the Council, we’re going to get him, even if they say no.” 

Fives nodded in determination, still slightly dazed. Rex did the same alongside him. 

“And the second thing?” Kix asked. 

Tarin looked at them, her expression switching to an excited grin. “I can heal your accelerated aging.” 

* * *

In the moments that followed his parting ways with Tarin as she went to speak with the men and he himself headed towards the bridge to speak with the Council, Obi-Wan had finally managed to quiet his racing thoughts. The sense of foreboding that had blanketed the Force since the beginning of the war was still present, but as a whole, the Force somehow felt lighter, clearer even. 

If recent events were any evidence, Obi-Wan concluded that it was safe to make the assumption that Tarin’s appearance and the revelations that she brought with her were aligned with the Will of the Force and he couldn’t help but brighten ever so slightly at that prospect. 

That he had been called to convene with the Council was quite peculiar, given that he would be on Coruscant in less than half a day now. Apparently whatever matter needed discussion was urgent enough that the Council thought it necessary to forego waiting a few hours for him to meet in person. 

The double doors of the bridge entrance opened audibly and Obi-Wan stepped inside, where Cody then directed him to an adjacent command room that served on many occasions as a pseudo-command center and office for brief interactions. As soon as he entered the small room and approached the projector table, he took in the hazy blue holographic forms of his fellow Jedi Masters. 

With the Council members — and the Jedi as a whole, for that matter — finding themselves increasingly busy under their calling as Generals, meetings as of late had frequently consisted of a roster with many masters absent. He knew that it was a despair-inducing observation that was silently acknowledged by all of the Council members. 

Grandmaster Yoda was present of course, accompanied by Mace Windu, Plo Koon, Ki-Adi-Mundi, Shaak Ti, Kit Fisto, and Adi Gallia. Obi-Wan was glad to see the faces of his fellow masters, but that appreciation was quickly swept away and replaced by other feelings when he laid his eyes on two more glowing forms. 

Next to each other stood Anakin Skywalker and Siri Tachi. His mind instantly went to the events of the past few days and he knew that this meeting surely had to do with Tarin in some way shape or form. 

That wasn’t the only thought present in his mind. With all that his daughter had told him, he was immediately starting to look at his Padawan in a new light. It wasn’t malicious at all, however. Rather, the sight of the boy he had trained — and effectively raised — stirred a plethora of different feelings inside of him. There was sorrow in knowing that not only had he failed as a master to teach Anakin certain aspects of being a Jedi that could have helped him so much more than they actually had throughout his life, as well as frustration and sadness at himself that Anakin apparently saw him as someone that he couldn’t confide in. 

Did the boy really think that Obi-Wan would have revealed the secret of his marriage? He was a Council member, that was true. He also struggled with speaking in plain terms with Anakin when it came to his own emotions. He loved Anakin as if the younger man was his own brother, he just never found the words, or actions, in which to express that — and apparently that hadn’t been enough for Anakin’s needs. 

If Obi-Wan was sure of one thing when it came to Anakin — specifically at this point in his life, where his time traveling offspring revealed that his brother suffered a fate possibly worse than death — he would make it his goal to go to greater lengths than he ever had before to be someone that his former Padawan could trust. 

Resolve filled him at the prospect of mending their relationship. His gaze flickered to Siri, who was both a different story entirely and oddly quite similar. 

Obi-Wan loved both individuals. The obvious difference was that the affection he had for Siri was romantic, whereas his love for Anakin was familial. At the core of those feelings though, Obi-Wan knew that there was the same underlying issue, one he was growing increasingly determined to bring to light and eventually change. It was the restrictions that the Jedi Code put on what their beliefs labeled ‘attachment’ and their unwillingness to allow things such as ‘love.’ But Tarin’s appearance and his short time with her had brought up ideas that he had long thought buried under layers of Jedi doctrine. 

If a Jedi was to be compassionate and compassion itself was one of the highest forms of love, that meant that a Jedi was completely capable of loving, and did so almost constantly when on assignment. The bond between master and apprentice was also one that almost always grew into a parental relationship, regardless of if the Jedi were unwilling to admit such a thing outright. 

As the Padawan of a man who was widely regarded as the living breathing definition of a maverick, Obi-Wan had almost constantly grappled — both internally and externally — with the validity of the Order’s views on attachment. He wasn’t naive to any degree, he knew the dangers of the dark side and had been keeping them at bay for years, to varying degrees, as all Jedi did. At the same time however, his love for Siri had made him stronger in almost every way, as did his love for Anakin, even if he didn’t physically voice it. 

But it was the love that he had so effortlessly discovered with Tarin that had dusted off all of his ‘heretical’ thoughts and brought them to the surface of his mind once more. This time though, it felt like they were undeniably there to stay. It almost felt like if he listened close enough, he could hear Qui-Gon laughing.

His eyes flickered to the two outlying figures and he sent them a small smile. Anakin looked slightly disheveled but not in the distressed sense. Siri was stoic and put together, as was regular behavior of her in front of the Council. Through their holographic form, Obi-Wan could have sworn that each one looked the slightest bit trepidatious, but his observation did not show on his features. 

“Master Kenobi,” Mace acknowledged with a nod that all of the present Council members mimicked. Obi-Wan returned the gesture. 

Yoda stepped in after Obi-Wan had settled in position, arms folded across his chest. “Good to see you, it is, Master Kenobi,” the small master stated. “An interesting matter to discuss, we have.” The diminutive master focused his voice on everyone present now. “Sure I am, that felt in the Force a great disturbance, all of us have.” It was a statement that a few of the others seemed to expect. Everyone nodded in agreement, curiously, Anakin and Siri included.

So this  _ was  _ about Tarin. Obi-Wan had to keep himself from barking out a maniacal laugh. Interesting didn’t even begin to cover it in the slightest. His conversation with her earlier had driven them to the mutual decision that they would discuss all matters in person with the Council when they made planetfall. The only unknown factor that this particular meeting presented was the presence of Anakin and Siri. He would play along for now and only provide discreet obfuscations that Tarin had suggested. The girl had quickly proven herself to be incredibly smart, as well as devious and tactful, among other things. 

He decided that he would make his way straight to the point. The sooner the meeting ended, the sooner he could go back to meditating in preparation of the  _ actual  _ meeting. “Yes, Grandmaster, I felt the disturbance, although I must admit, prior to this meeting I assumed I was the only one who did.” 

Yoda hummed at his response and then chuckled, much to his surprise. “Felt it, I did. Felt it, others did. Knocked young Skywalker unconscious, it did. An even more peculiar effect, had on Knight Tachi, the disturbance did,” he finished, leaving Siri to speak for herself. 

He centered himself as quickly as he could and betrayed no amount of surprise to anyone at the revelation that Tarin’s appearance had apparently caused Anakin to fall out of consciousness. At this point, he was painfully aware that his daughter had an absolutely terrible relationship with the Anakin of her time, so the knowledge that the two of them were physically connected in some way startled him. “Thank you Master Yoda,” Siri said politely, before addressing the entire gathering. “I felt a force bond come into place almost immediately after the initial disturbance had passed.” 

That shocked Obi-Wan considerably more than hearing what his child’s arrival had caused to befall Anakin, specifically because he had felt a bond create itself between the two of them as soon as she came within close proximity of him. But for such a link to establish itself multiple star systems away was completely unprecedented. Furthermore, conventional training bonds were created with consented effort from both individuals. However it was revealed now — at least to Obi-Wan and in part, Siri — that both bonds were formed with no effort from either party. 

Considering that one of the bonds snapped into place across multiple  _ lightyears  _ was completely unheard of and far beyond bordering on unthinkable. But then again, Tarin did  _ time travel,  _ so maybe dizzying notions should be given more merit in the times to come. 

Obi-Wan spoke up before any of the shocked masters could question Siri. “I as well, felt a similar bond form after the disturbance.” The admission caused the already taken aback Council members to murmur amongst themselves even further. Siri’s head had snapped to Obi-Wan, her eyes locking with his in an instant. He betrayed nothing back to her, instead choosing to let the discussion play out. 

“Know of this bond, you do?” Yoda asked. “Know of what caused the disturbance, you do?” the small Master hummed. 

Obi-Wan thought briefly of how to formulate his response, but every second brought them closer to Coruscant and in truth, he really wanted to be out of the meeting and speaking with his daughter once more, then maybe resting — although he would never admit to his medic that he slept voluntarily. He shook his head. “Not what, Master Yoda,” he clarified, “Whom.” 

That got the attention of everyone else. The wise Grandmaster hummed noncommittally. “Caused this, an individual did?” 

“Yes Master.” He knew that his short response would prompt the ancient Jedi to question further, but he spoke in such a way regardless. Yoda narrowed his eyes at Obi-Wan in the inquisitive manner that always gave away nothing that the small creature was thinking. 

“Bonded with this individual, you have?” Yoda said finally. 

“Yes Master.” 

“Tell us of them, you will?” 

Obi-Wan was ready for this question. He knew exactly how much he was going to reveal and that said revelations would cause many questions that he would have to brush aside, but he followed through. “It was a woman, Grandmaster.” Siri’s eyes narrowed at that, much to Obi-Wan’s amusement. “She appeared during the final push of our joint Campaign to reclaim Umbara. She is incredibly strong in the Force.” 

Yoda mulled that over while Siri glared daggers at Obi-Wan. Anakin had adopted a matching expression. “Know of her identity, you do?” There was the question Obi-Wan was looking for. 

“I do, although I firmly believe that is a matter best discussed in person and within the confines of the High Council chambers.” He waited for a reaction. His answer wouldn’t stir up anything unusual, aside from the curiosity that he could almost feel radiating off of Anakin, who was never good at keeping his face from revealing his thoughts. “Master,” Anakin started, but was shut down by a glare from Mace Windu. Anakin’s actions made Obi-Wan realize that keeping Tarin’s identity from him would quickly prove useless. He took solace in knowing that she had vehemently stated that she would be the one to reveal herself. Obi-Wan was just riding along for all the chaos that this would cause. 

It was freeing in a sense that he had not felt in a long time, to know that he did not stand solely with the Council and yet still feel that he was completely in the right. His conversation with Tarin had also brought to light many of the failings that plagued the Jedi Order — the Council, more specifically — and had thus led to their eventual downfall. There had been a point in his life only days prior where he would have put all of his efforts into casting such doubts into the Force. Now, he held onto them and pondered their credibility further, even going so far as to agree with many of them. 

Adi Gallia frowned. “And why exactly would this be better discussed at the Temple.” Some of the masters mumbled their agreement with her inquiry. Obi-Wan did not budge. 

“I will only say that I am of the firm belief that it will be best discussed within the confines of the High Council chambers.” 

“Yes, you have said as much, Master Kenobi,” Shaak Ti said dryly, if it was even possible for such an elegant woman to convey that tone. 

Inwardly, Obi-Wan was amused. His face simply became more staunch in its conviction. “And I reserve the right to withhold from voicing my motivations until I see fit, Master Ti,” he said promptly. 

Anakin and Siri looked at Obi-Wan as if he had grown a second head. Shaak seemed to ponder his response until she accepted the merit that it held. Yoda continued to remain completely expressionless and Mace had put a slightly exasperated hand up to his brow. “Obi-Wan…” the Korun Jedi Master started. 

Obi-Wan cut him off. “In fact, I believe I am late to a conversation I had scheduled with the woman in question,” he said, which was an absolute lie. He reached for the button that controlled his connection to the meeting just as Mace protested once more, in a significantly more vehement tone. As the holograms winked out, the last thing that he registered was the gobsmacked expression on his former Padawan’s face. 

With that, Obi-Wan Kenobi left the room, smiling to himself. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thing that has always been interesting to me when it came to prequel and TCW era Star Wars fanfics was the sheer amount and variety of different characterizations that people have for Obi-Wan. It's beautiful to write stories with him that include elements of questioning the Jedi Code and attachments as a whole in a way that shines in its own malleability due to the fact that we never truly got to know what Obi-Wan would have thought of Anakin's marriage if he was aware of it early on. 
> 
> That monumental "what if?" lays the groundwork for so many different story routes. I have seen characterizations that range anywhere from Obi-Wan detesting Anakin for his marriage and siding with the Council, to Obi-Wan having his own secret marriage as well. Case in point, fics where he and Siri are involved and even sometimes have a secret child. Or there is the ever-popular Korkie-is-Obi-Wan's-son, plot. The aforementioned one is flexible enough to where I've seen it having Obi-Wan as a dutiful father who frequently interacts with his Mandalorian wife and child, to him being distant and, at times (depending on the story) completely unaware that he has a kid. 
> 
> The stories where he is visibly more staunch in his Jedi beliefs and their coexistence with the ones where he is willing to bend the rules and feel little to no remorse for his actions has made me realize that I almost love both perspectives equally. So I'd ask that any readers might not take this fic at face value as my interpretation of how Obi-Wan might view the Jedi Code, Anakin's marriage, and romance as a Jedi in general. Instead, I encourage you all to view this as one of many ways for Obi-Wan to react, but still not an extreme in that regard. If I ever finish this fic I may even get around to writing one where he adheres much more vehemently to his own religious dogma. 
> 
> That being said, the fics in question can also vary in how quickly they have Obi-Wan solidifying his opinion on matters of the heart. So is this chapter rushing into it a little bit? Maybe, yeah. 
> 
> Am I writing a three hundred page dissertation on swaying Obi-Wan's preconceived notions? Nope. 
> 
> So for now, this is how this one is gonna go and I think -- for the most part -- that I'm comfortable with it. 
> 
> Mando’a Translations: 
> 
> "Mand'alor, udesii.": Mandalore, calm down. 
> 
> "Vore, alor'ad": Thanks, captain. 
> 
> vode: brothers
> 
> vod: brother
> 
> Kote: Glory (However in this instance, it is Cody's traditional Mando'a name)
> 
> Vor entye: Thank you 
> 
> Mand'alor: sole ruler 
> 
> Elek: yes
> 
> shabla: fucking 
> 
> Buir: father 
> 
> ori'vod: big brother, older brother
> 
> vod'ika: little brother, younger brother
> 
> al'verde: commander 
> 
> "Ka'ra laam": Stars above (versatile expression - disbelief, in this case) 
> 
> "Vor entye, Mand'alor": Thank you, Mandalore.
> 
> "Ba'gedet'ye, al'verde": You're welcome, commander. 
> 
> Kaminiise: Kaminoans 
> 
> No idea what next chapter is gonna be about, we let anarchy facilitate the ministrations of our creative process in this household. I might consider making some changes to the way I present the Mando'a Translations section at the end of every chapter, mostly because a lot of them are recurring and situational. 
> 
> K'oyacyi! 
> 
> -rel


End file.
